A Day and A Night
by AnneM.Oliver
Summary: Two men, different as day and night. One, she knows well, the other she wants to know better. Thrown together to solve two murders, both have vowed to keep her safe, but only one will keep that vow, the other may take her life. Dramione/Veela/Vampire fic.
1. Chapter 1 An Auror and An Expert

**all characters and canon situations belong to JK Rowling and I make no money from the writing or publishing of this story**

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**A Day and a Night**

**by**

**Anne M **

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**Summary:** Thrown together to work on a murder case, Draco is Hermione's reluctant partner, much to her vexation, and to his annoyance. She's an expert on magical DNA, so she's needed to help solve a double homicide of two young witches, but why is Draco on the case? The reasons will be made perfectly clear, and by the time she discovers why he's there, it may be too late to save even either one of them.

A dark, mysterious stranger offers to help the pair and holds the key to the strange little village where they young girls were killed, but he also holds an attraction to Hermione, as well as a deeper secret, which Hermione will soon discover, and Draco already knows.

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**Chapter 1: An Auror and an Expert:**

Something about this case bothered Hermione, on many levels. The brutality of the murders were enough to disturb even the most seasoned Auror, but it was something else that bothered her, and she couldn't even define it.

Two young witches disappeared two weeks apart, on the coastal town of Glendora, in Southern Scotland. It wasn't long after they disappeared that they were found murdered. The town was remote, on a small inlet, surrounded by water, and connected to the mainland by a narrow loch, and it was a completely magical community. More than that, it was well guarded against outsiders.

The inhabitants were known not to associate with other witches and wizards. They had their own schools, and businesses, and even considered themselves separate from the laws that were put forth by the Ministry of Magic. It was an ancient village, and the residents were known to abhor outsiders. It was founded in 1673, and it was rumored that the first populace were wizards who had powers and abilities greater than, and different from, other wizards of the United Kingdom.

Years of intermarriage and isolation left the inhabitants even wearier of outsiders, but when one archeology student, who was studying ancient runes nearby, was reported to have taken a boat across the loch to the village, and never returned, the authorities were called.

Then, two weeks later, another young girl disappeared. Finally, the Aurors found their bodies, and both were mutilated in similar fashions. The reason for death could not be determined in either case.

Not because the bodies were deeply decomposed, as one would suspect. It was because they weren't. Neither body had decomposed at all. It appeared they both died by a salvage animal attack, and probably died due to massive hemorrhage, except that besides the wounds and the obvious state of death, neither girl's bodies had decomposed at all. It was as if they died earlier that day, instead of months ago.

Hermione was perplexed, as were the many other pathologists witches, and wizards who had examined the bodies. The markings on the bodies were odd as well. If an animal killed these girls, (and if it wasn't an animal, what was it?) then it was not an animal known in the Muggle or Magical world.

The bite marks were shallow, almost human, except they were deeper than human bite marks, but not deep enough to be considered animal. There were numerous claw marks, and they too were deep, but unlike an animal's claws, each slash wound had five, not four, marks. Other slashes had two evenly spaced marks, which looked as if they could have been caused by a bird's talons.

There was venom found in their bodies, and though numerous test and experiments were conducted, it was not identifiable venom, so it could not be ruled as the reason for their deaths.

The oddest thing of all was that when they found the first body, it was wrapped in a white sheet, almost reverently, and placed in a shallow grave. No known animal would do such a thing. The second body, found ten days later, was found the same way.

Hermione put aside the photographs of the bodies, and pushed aside the massive amount of paperwork she had on the case, which now littered her desk. She placed her head in her hands and sighed. What terror did these girls face the moment before they died?

Harry knocked on her office door and smiled his hello. She placed all of the papers and photographs back in a folder and stuffed it in her satchel. She said, "Are you ready to go?"

"About that," he said, "I'm not going. I'm still the Auror in charge, but it was decided by the Minister himself that a better trained Auror would go with you."

Hermione wanted to laugh. "Who's better trained than you?"

"Let me rephrase," he said, with another smile. "They're sending someone whom they think might be able to shed some light on the case, which apparently I can't."

"Who might that be?" she asked.

"Me." Hermione turned to face the person who spoke, stared into a pair of silver-blue eyes, and then turned back to Harry. Her eyes beseeched him to tell her that it was a lie, a fabrication, a joke of some type.

Sensing her ill ease, Draco said, "I'm not thrilled about this either, Granger."

"How is he an expert?" Hermione asked Harry.

"You can address your questions to me, you know," Draco said.

Hermione stood right in front of him, but not facing him, and she asked Harry again, "Harry, how is he an expert?"

Harry said, "I don't know, Hermione. I'm sorry. It was decided by the Minister." He walked by Malfoy, shouldering him hard as he walked through the doorway, and then he said to him, "One reminder, Malfoy. If one hair on her head is so much as pulled out, you'll answer to me."

"I think she can take care of herself, Potter, and seriously, did you have to use a hair analogy? Her hair seems to have a life of its own," Draco said. Harry didn't look amused. He merely walked down the hall, and both Draco and Hermione stood in the doorway and watched him leave. Draco turned to Hermione and said, "He needs to get a life."

"Tell me about it," Hermione offered. She went back over to her desk to get a few more files from the drawer, and then she said, "Are you an expert of Scottish lowlands or something?"

"The most I know about Scotland it that Hogwarts was there, they like to wear tartan, and that they talk funny," Draco said, taking a chair in front of her desk.

"Are you an expert on animal attacks?" she asked.

"Not in the least," he muttered.

She sat down hard on her chair and said, "Then why you? I don't understand."

"The better question is, why you?" Draco asked. "You aren't an Auror, you don't work for the Ministry, so what do you have to offer this case that a qualified Auror can't offer?"

She regarded him a moment and then said, "First, your qualified Aurors have been trying to solve the case for six months, and in the meantime, two families are still mourning their daughters, and are still wondering what happened to them. People everywhere feel unsafe, wondering if something similar could happen to them. Even the Muggle authorities are going to have to be called soon, if we can't find out what happened to them."

"Fine, fine, what a boring soliloquy, Granger." Draco stood up and said, "But that didn't answer my question as to why you? Don't you write little books about ancient artifacts and such? Why you?"

Hermione said, "I'm a pathologist, but I'm also an archeologist, just like those two young girls, and I've even studied in that same area of Scotland before. They think I might offer some insight. In addition, I've been working on magical DNA and how to trace it, for years. I've recently won a grant to help fund my research, and the Ministry is hoping that I might use my work to help discover what happened to these girls." She grabbed her things, her coat, and her purse, and she walked out of her office. She turned off the light, leaving Draco standing in the dark room, alone.

He caught up with her out in the car park. He said, "My car is over there."

"Oh, are you driving? I assumed we would travel together, but all right. I'll follow you," she said as she loaded her things in her boot.

"You're coming with me, Granger," he said with a roll of his eyes. He took her keys from her and opened the boot of her car again.

"No, I'm driving," she said. She slammed her boot shut, grabbed her keys from his hand, and opened her car door. He walked behind her and closed it.

She opened it, but he stood behind her and closed it again. She turned to tell him off, but he was RIGHT behind her, close as can be, and she was mildly distracted by his nearness, and for some reason, by the scent of his aftershave.

He loomed over her, placed one hand on her shoulder, and said, "My car is over there."

Three hours later, they were still driving, and Draco mumbled something. "Excuse me?" Hermione asked.

"I asked, do you have to drive so damn slow? This is a thoroughfare, Granger! You aren't meant to go slow!"

"My car, my rules," she said. She smiled at him sweetly, but he frowned.

"I still don't know how I ended up in your car," he grumbled. He glanced over at her and growled again.

"Oh, stop making noises," she said back. She turned on the radio to drown out his vocal rumblings.

"Why are we driving, anyway?" he asked. "At this pace, it's going to take us ten hours to get there."

"Yes, we'll probably have to stop on the way, overnight, and we're driving because the whole area around Glendora is enchanted, not just the islet of Glendora, but also the surrounding lochs and inland, and even the mountains around it. I also really thought I might need my car while we're there."

"We won't be welcomed, you know. The Aurors who went in after the first girl disappeared were almost killed by unfriendly locals. They're a bunch of inbred elites, who think they're above our laws," Draco offered.

"Sort of like purebloods, huh?" she joked. He did not look the least bit amused.

He added, "Seriously, they're an unfriendly bunch, and they're not known for their hospitality."

"Yeah, Harry told me. He said that they're a very tight group, and they don't trust outsiders, but one of my former professors from Uni gave me a name of a man who might be able to help us. He's a local, very well respected, from the oldest family there, and his name is Milo Dorchester. Apparently, these people are deep in patriarchal rules, and since his family is the oldest family of the region, he's sort of the head of one of the clans. My professor already wrote to him to tell him that we were coming."

"Clans?" Draco asked. Apparently that was the only word he heard in her whole sentence. He rolled his eyes again. "They sound absolutely barbaric and like they're from another century." Draco picked up the folder, which Hermione had placed between the two front seats, and he thumbed through the contents.

She asked, "Tell me seriously, how are you an expert on these people? It seems I know more about them than you do."

He shrugged again. When it was apparent that no information was forthcoming, Hermione kept quiet. She turned off the main road, and started onto a two-lane road. After several more hours of driving, she turned to Draco and said, "It's about fifty more kilometers to Glendora, and it's late. Do you fancy a bite, a respite, and perhaps a nice little Inn for the night?" She smiled at her rhyme.

"Are you propositioning me, Granger?" he asked, though his tone was cool.

"Not in the least, it's just that I'm tired, and I say we stop for the night at the closest village, and head to Glendora in the light of day." She pulled into a small Motel, and turned off the engine.

"Since you're the boss, I guess we'll do whatever you want," he complained. He was out of the car before she shut off the engine. He stormed into the office, and she remained in the seat for a moment, wondering what she had done to deserve being paired off with Draco Malfoy.

He was still a first class bully. He was still a snob. Sure, he was an Auror now, but as far as Hermione knew, he kept to himself and he really didn't have many friends. Sometimes she saw him when she was out with Harry and Ron. She had just broken up with one of his former friends, so she saw him occasionally when she was dating Adrian, but they were never friends.

It was going to be a long night, and a longer investigation.

There was a knock on her window. She opened the door. "They only have one ruddy room in this flea-bitten motel!" he shouted. "And we'll have to eat vending machine food, because the dirty little man at the counter said that nothing in this village is open this time of night, and that the closest restaurant that's open is 23 kilometers back, which is where I wanted to stop, if you'll remember."

She rubbed her hand over her eyes and said, "Do you want us to drive back there?"

"No, I want to get some over-processed, cardboard food from the stupid machines, and then go to bed, where I'm sure bedbugs and fleas will feast on me all night long!" He continued to stare at her.

She said, "Well, do you mind if I use the loo in your room first, and then I'll come back out and sleep in the car."

"You're so stupid, Granger," he said, less than eloquently. "I rather think I can trust you not to molest me for one night. We can share the bloody room."

"Me molest you?" she barked as she exited the car. "HA! That's rich, Malfoy. Really, you're a ruddy comedian." She walked around toward the boot, opened it, and took out her suitcase and all the folders she had on the case. He took the folders from her hand, and threw them back in the trunk of the car, along with her satchel.

"No work. Eat, bathe and sleep, then we'll get an early start tomorrow. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave, and I can get out of this nightmare." He took her suitcase from her hand, and with hers in one hand, and his in the other hand, he cocked his head to the side and said, "Come on, Granger. Room ten is waiting for us."


	2. Chapter 2 A Bed and a Blast

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 2: A Bed and a Blast:**

"Do you want another crisp?" Hermione asked. Draco came out of the bathroom, after having taken a shower, with a towel low around his hips, and another one was in his hand, as he dried his hair.

Hermione averted her eyes, even as he said, "No, I don't want a crisp. I don't want a crisp, a pretzel, sweets, fizzy drinks or the like. I want real food, a steak medium rare, if you will."

He sat on the one and only bed and finished drying his hair. Hermione was on the floor, and she tried very hard not to look at the half-naked man in the room, which was as hard as not looking at the white elephant in the room…one just could not help but stare. She turned back to all the files around her, and said, "If I could conjure food for you, I would."

He slipped on a pair of jeans, thank goodness he stepped back in the bathroom to do so, and then he said, "I thought I told you no work tonight."

She giggled. "And I would listen to you, why?" she asked. She placed the piece of parchment that was in her hand on top of a pile of other papers, and crawled over to her satchel. Draco watched her with interest as he pulled a clean shirt over his head. She had a rather nice bum, he thought. Then he mentally slapped himself for looking, or even thinking, about Hermione Granger's bum. Merlin help him.

She plugged her computer into a wall outlet and said, "I want to download this information into my computer."

"You use a computer?" he asked.

"I couldn't live without it," she admitted. She sat with her back against the dresser, and her legs out in front of her. While her laptop booted up, she said, "Do you ever use one?"

He shrugged. "They're good for video games," he said.

"How old are you?" she asked. She shook her head and said, "I swear, what is it with men and computer games?"

He threw a pillow from the bed at her, hitting her on the head, and he said, "I'm as old as you are, Granger, and so what? I like Muggle computer games."

She propped the pillow behind her back, and began to type on her laptop. "Actually, you're a bit younger than me. I turned 27 last month. You're only 26, and have been for only four months."

"You know my birthday, do you?" he asked. He opened another bag of treats and turned on the telly with the remote. The telly was mounted directly over her head, on the wall.

She looked up and said, "Turn that down, please."

"Why, your computer doesn't have sound," he said.

"Please, I'm working," she complained. "I may not be able to use my computer once we reach Glendora, because of all the magic, so I have to get this done now."

He turned the telly up louder and threw the second pillow at her.

"Draco!" she yelled.

He turned off the telly, and scooted to the edge of the bed, even as he said, "SH, Granger, be quiet."

"That's rude."

"Shut up," he said. She watched him as he stood up and went to the window. She closed her laptop and stood up to join him. She went to the window, but he moved so that her body was behind his.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I heard a noise," he said. He continued to stare out at the dark night. There were no lights in the mostly abandoned car park where they had left her car. She looked out as well, standing beside him.

"Draco, why aren't there other cars in the parking lot?" she asked.

He didn't look at her, but he said, "No clue."

"Didn't the desk clerk tell you that all the other rooms were full?" she asked. She went to the door, and started to open it.

He rushed up behind her and slammed it shut with the pad of his hand. She turned around and said, "Stop slamming doors that I open!"

He ignored her and pulled back the curtains again. She turned to the window and stepped under his arm, to look out as well.

There was a flash of light, and her car, which was parked directly in front of their room, exploded.

Draco pulled Hermione to the floor, and as the petrol tank caught flame. A fireball shot up into the sky, he placed his body on top of hers, even as glass and wooden splinters from the window and door rained all over them.

They both stayed where they were for many moments. Finally, he started to his knees, and she turned to her back.

"Are you hurt?" he asked. He noticed that she had a large cut on her arm.

She shook her head no, since she was too shocked to speak. She sat up, and he reached for her, and brushed glass shards from her hair. He said, "Stay down for a moment." He hopped up and went through the giant hole in the wall, and watched as her car burned.

She wasn't about to stay put. She shook her head, to remove more glass and debris, and then she walked up behind him. She started past him, but he placed his arm out in front of her, to stop her. "What do you think, Malfoy?" she asked.

He said, "I think I'm glad we didn't bring my car."

Two hours later, after the Muggle police and fire patrol had been called, and they had procured another room, they were finally ready for sleep, for the most part. Hermione stared up at the ceiling as she lay on her back, and she asked, "So the man at the desk, when you checked in, didn't even really work here."

"Apparently, or that's what the night manager just told us," Draco explained. He slipped out of his jeans, pulled off his shirt, and slipped under the covers in only his boxers. Hermione was on top of the covers, fully clothed. She turned to look at him quickly, then averted her gaze toward the ceiling again.

"And they apparently had more than one room available, since we're in another one now," she stated, in a monotone voice. She was trying to work out all the details in her head.

"Apparently," he answered.

"And they still do," she said. She turned to her side, and put her hands under her head, to look at him. "So why are we in the same room?"

"I think its better that we remain together." That was all the explanations he deemed necessary. He turned so his back was to her.

She could see his skin of his back and shoulder glow in the light of the moon as it flitted through the gaps in the drapes. Hermione could see a mole on his back. She had an undeniable urge to reach out and touch the mole, but she didn't. She could see the definitions of his muscles, and how taut and strained they seemed. She could tell he was tense, and was no where near relaxing. He had a nice back.

"Do you think that my car exploding was an attempt to stop us from going to Glendora?" she asked.

He turned to his back. "Don't you?"

"What did the Muggle police tell you?" she asked.

"Go to sleep," he said.

"They told you to go to sleep?" she asked, sarcastically.

She turned to her other side, with her back to him. He looked at her hair. It was still wet, from the shower she had just taken. He looked at her lower arm. She had a large cut from the broken window. She put three plasters on it, but he could still see it. He watched the rise and fall of her shoulder, from her steady breathing. He looked at the way her hand rested on her hip. He looked down at her bum again. It was a nice bum, and so what if he thought so? He wondered if she was going to stay in her clothing. He watched as she brought her arm up to her other arm, and she placed her hand over her injury, as if she was in pain.

He asked, "Did you clean your cut good?"

"No," she said solemnly, not looking at him. "I cleaned it bad."

"Whatever," he spat. "Sorry to hear about you and Adrian, by the way."

She turned to her back. They were both on their backs, looking up at the ceiling, both trying hard to look anywhere but at each other.

"Really?" she said. She turned her head toward him. "I heard you had told him that it was high time he kicked me to the curb."

"I never!" he said, full of indignation. He sat up so he could face her. She looked up at his face and she laughed.

"I'm joking; besides, I broke up with him, not the other way around, so I kicked him to the curb."

"Okay…and you know that I would never have said anything like that, although I didn't think you were especially suited for each other," he decided.

She repeated his statement from earlier and said, "Whatever."

"Go to sleep," he finally repeated.

"You're so bossy," she said. She turned to look at him.

"Whatever," he said again, although he smirked.

"Whatever," she said back, with a small smile.

He closed his eyes, and said again, "Go to sleep."

She finally complied, although it seemed to him that it took forever. When he was finally assured that she was sleeping, he climbed out of bed, and padded silently over to the toilet.

He turned on the light, and with his phone firmly in his hand, he dialed Potter.

"Damn, it's late, Malfoy," was how Harry answered the phone.

"There was an attempt on our lives tonight."

"What happened?" Harry asked. Draco explained how they were told there was only one room, how he heard strange noises, and then her car exploded, ending with, "and the Muggle authorities could find no accelerants or reason for the explosion."

"You think it was caused by magic?" Harry asked.

"I found traces of magic, yes, when I examined what was left of her car," Draco said.

"Have you told her yet why you're there with her," Harry asked.

"I thought it was decided that I shouldn't," he said to the senior Auror.

Draco could hear Harry sigh. "I wish the Ministry hadn't asked her to help them with this. Just watch out for her. She can get one-minded about things. She's going to go after this like a rabid dog, and she won't stop until she gets answers, or she gets killed. If you don't find any clues to these murders after a few weeks, you both are to come back."

"Aye, aye, captain," Draco said. He closed his phone and walked back out to the bedroom. She was sitting up in the bed, the bedside lamp on his side turned on, and her computer on her lap. She didn't even look up at him as he stood in the doorway of the bathroom. He turned off the bathroom light, and went over to the bed. He stared down at her and decided that Potter was right - she was one-minded, and bullheaded, and once something proved a challenge for her, she wouldn't give up on it, and that worried him. He wasn't about to let a double murder be the death of him, and so he suppose he would have to make sure it wasn't the death of her, either.

He slammed shut her laptop. She looked up shocked, and said, "Stop slamming things shut on me!"

He laughed, took her laptop from her lap, and he took it over to his side of the bed, and placed it underneath. He crawled back under the covers and said, "Go to sleep."

"I mean, really Malfoy, it was rude enough earlier, before we left today, and you slammed my car door shut without warning," she began.

He sat up for a moment, turned off the light she had turned on and said, "Go to sleep." He punched his pillow.

"And then you slammed my boot shut when I wanted to get my research, and then you slammed the door of our other room shut when I tried to open it," she continued.

"GO…TO…SLEEP!" he growled.

"Then you slam my computer shut! My computer! Mine!"

He turned so suddenly that she cowered while she sat up in the bed, and pressed as far up against the headboard as she could. He got up on his knees, grabbed her shoulders, and he actually SLAMMED her onto her back, on the bed. Then he loomed over her and said, "Do you want me to slam my lips to yours to get you to shut up?"

He didn't know what possessed him to say such a ludicrous thing, but it shut her up quickly. Her eyes widened, her mouth closed, and she didn't move a muscle. He let go of her shoulders, moved back to his side, SLAMMED his fist into the pillow again, and then said, "Good. Go to sleep!"

They were both quiet for so long, that he was certain that she had finally gone to sleep. However, she finally said, "I would like to see you try to shut me up."

He turned slowly this time, but she had already turned to her side away from him, and she was breathing slowly and evenly. If he wanted to shut her up, by Merlin, he would, he really, really would.


	3. Chapter 3 A Walk and a Hand

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 3: A Walk and a Hand:**

Hermione had a terrible night's sleep. She tossed and turned all night. Twice she found herself staring at Draco as he slept. He seemed to sleep like the dead. He never moved. He didn't snore. Once his hand moved and once he murmured something, and once he moved to his side. She stared at the small mole she found so interesting earlier, and this time she even reached out and touched it. Even that didn't wake him up.

Finally, when daylight came, she decided to forgo the act of sleep, she got up, dressed, and went for a walk. She walked around the little hamlet, which was the closest village to Glendora. She knew this was a Muggle community, so she wondered if the members of this small town would know anything about the magical village. She decided she would find out.

They were close to their destination, but without a car, she wasn't sure how they were going to get there, since they would not be able to apparate. She also wondered if apparation was something that the residents of Glendora could perform in and out of their village, since other wizards could not. She continued to walk and think as she walked the small streets of the small community.

She didn't know if they could rent a car from here or not. Perhaps they could get a ride from someone. Maybe she could call her contact from the village, Milo Dorchester, and ask him to send someone for them.

She walked from the little hotel, to the main road of the town, (since she didn't have a car) to a pub a few blocks away. The village was quiet and quaint, but it was apparent that this little establishment was a local gathering point, as it had a bustling breakfast crowd. She sat by herself in a corner booth, and ordered coffee, eggs, bacon and toast.

When the waitress brought her food to her she asked, "How much farther is it to Glendora?"

The girl openly frowned and said, "You're not going there are ya?"

Hermione smiled and said, "Well, yes, I am. I'm an archeologist, and I'm going there because I'm writing a book on its history." Draco and Hermione had decided the night before that their cover story for the local Muggles would be that they were archeologists from the same University as the murdered witches.

The girl sat right in Hermione's booth, on the opposite side, and said, "Na, do not go there, Miss. It's not a good place. Have you not heard? Two young girls were murdered there round 'bout six months ago."

"I know, I worked with them," Hermione answered. She decided to continue her lie. "I'm picking up where they left off, in their findings, that is."

The girl actually reached over and placed her hand on Hermione's arm. "Those people in that village will not welcome ya. You stay away, you hear. It's a far way, anyway, and I heard your car was destroyed last night, so you'll have no way to go."

Hermione removed her arm from the girl's grasp and said, "And how would you know that?"

"It's a small village, and my brother works for the volunteer fire division. You're a stranger. It was an obvious conclusion." She smiled and stood up and said, "So really, you cannot go now, anyhow. It's too far to walk, and you'll not find anybody from here to take you. It's 50 kilometers from here and it would take you almost 40 minutes to drive these roads, and it's too far to walk." The girl walked away, satisfied that she had deterred Hermione from going.

The problem was that nothing could deter Hermione Granger from doing anything.

Hermione found the whole conversation curious. She continued to eat when she felt a strange undercurrent throughout the little pub. She couldn't explain it if she tried, but the air literally felt charged with electricity. She looked up, and she saw a dark-haired, handsome, younger man walk into the pub. All of the locals seemed taken aback by his presence. A few walked out the door when he entered. Most turned their attention to their food. A sort of hush filled the previously jovial crowd.

And the man stared right at Hermione.

And she stared right back.

He sat in a booth at the other end of the restaurant. He continued to stare at her with a dark, brooding look. Hermione felt slightly uncomfortable, but more than that, she felt highly aware of everything. Her skin felt on fire. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. She knew she was blushing, and she felt flushed. She started to shake, and she didn't know why. She looked down at her food, to hide the fact that his stare unnerved her.

She took a steady breath, because she honestly felt as if she was having some sort of anxiety attack. Then, she felt a hand on her shoulder; she looked up, and gasped.

It was Malfoy.

She looked from him, over to the booth where the man was, though it was now empty. How odd.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, sounding more perturbed than concerned. He removed his hand from her shoulder. "I just asked you a question, and then I said your name, and you didn't even look up until I touched your shoulder."

She looked up at him and frowned slightly and said, "Nothing's wrong, now what did you ask?"

"Where did you go?" Draco asked again, sitting opposite her.

"Isn't it apparent, since you found me?" she retorted. She moved to the side, to look around him, toward the now empty booth.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked her again. He turned his head to see where she was staring. He snapped his fingers at the waitress to get her attention and spat, "Hey, I'd like some food!"

"That's rude," Hermione said.

"Goodness knows I need you around to point out all my faults," Draco said. "You already told me I was rude last night. Point out something else today." The waitress came over and he ordered breakfast. He turned to Hermione and said, "Well, I'm waiting."

She thought for a moment and then said, "Your faults are too numerous to mention."

"But I'm sure you'll find a way to mention them anyway," he mumbled. "No, I meant that I'm waiting for you to tell me where you went this morning."

"Malfoy!" she answered, now a bit perturbed herself. "You are not that obtuse! I came here! You see me with your own eyes. I was hungry. I was also trying to find out what the locals know about Glendora."

"Yes, well, you could have just asked me. I already know that they don't hold it in high regard," Draco answer, taking a sip of her coffee. She gave him a scathing look and he said, "I know, I know, I'm rude, I'm rude." He took another drink, set it down, and said, "I asked one of the Muggle police about it last night. I told him we were archeologists, as we planned, and that the girls worked for the same University that we do, and that we wanted to go there to continue their work, and he told me that we should stay away. He said that the village was evil. Not that someone was evil, but that the village was evil. He said that no one could even go in and investigate the murders, because they just couldn't. What does that mean?"

Hermione shrugged, because she had no clue what it meant.

Their waitress brought Draco's food and he began to eat as she pondered that very thing even more. The local Muggle authorities knew of the murders, which were apparent, from what both the police and the waitress told them, but no one was investigating it, because of their fear of the neighboring village. She wondered if there were any wizards or witches in this village. The man that was here earlier struck Hermione as a wizard, and she wasn't sure why.

She leaned toward Draco and asked, "Draco, did you see a tall, dark, good-looking man sitting at the first booth by the door when you entered?"

"Gads, Granger, are you trying to find a replacement for Adrian already?" he barked.

She reached over and pinched his arm.

"You witch!" he said.

She cocked her head and said, "That's not an insult, moron. Tell me, did you see a dark-haired man?"

"No, why?" he asked.

"Never mind." She stood up and said, "Pay my bill, will you. I'm going exploring."

He reached out and grabbed the back of her lightweight jacket as she started to walk away. He literally pulled her back to the table, and then forced her to sit beside him on his bench. His hand went from the back of her jacket to her arm.

"First, talk about rude, Granger! That was rude. You don't just tell someone to pay your bill. You're not a pauper. You can pay your own bloody bill. Second, you go no where without me. For all intents and purposes, and as much as it makes bile rise to my throat just to mention it, we're in this together."

She looked at his hand as it held her arm tightly, then back to his face. He let her go. She said, "First, of course I'm not a pauper, but you have more money than anyone I know, and I bought the snacks last night, but never mind. I'll pay my own bill. Second, Prince Rude, may I at least go to the ladies' room?"

"Give me your wand."

"What?"

"I know you won't sneak out a window in the loo without your wand." He held out his hand.

"We're in a Muggle pub, you git! I can't just hand you my wand!" She felt like hitting him upside the head.

"No one will see. Your wand, Princess Pauper," he teased.

"I'm not a pauper," she huffed.

"Just a princess, right? Just give me your wand, and I'll even pay for your breakfast while you go to the toilet," he said. He held out his hand again. She slapped it away.

"I'll give you my word that I won't leave, but I won't give you my wand," she vowed.

He held out his hand again. She slapped it a second time. She tried to stand up, but he grabbed her arm once more. He reached inside her pocket, grabbed her wand, and then said, "Go pee, Princess."

"You're despicable," she said steadily. She stood up, placed her purse across her shoulder, and started toward the bathroom. She looked back once, and saw that he was 'snapping' at the waitress again, because he wanted another cup of coffee. She called out, "Rude, Malfoy!"

He gave her a very rude hand gesture in return, just to prove her point.

She went to the ladies' room, found a small window, and climbed out, all without her wand and without magic. As she was climbing down the other side of the wall she said, "Take that, Prince Rude."

She brushed off her hands and walked around to the front of the pub. She could see the little town square several blocks away. She started toward the little downtown, when a storefront caught her eye. It was a bookstore, of course.

She walked in and saw that it was a used bookstore. Perfect. She asked the old lady at the counter if they had any books on the area. She pointed toward a shelf in the back. Hermione knelt down and looked over several shelves, but saw nothing on Glendora. She stood up and went back to the counter.

"Excuse me," she began, "I saw a few books on this village, but I was wondering if you had any on the surrounding areas."

"Which areas are you interested in, Sweetheart?" the woman asked with a smile.

"Glendora," she answered.

The lady immediately frowned. "Why?"

"My partner and I are being sent there from our University. We're doing some excavation and studying some of the history of that area," she lied again.

"Did you hear that six months ago, two young girls were killed there?" the lady asked. Yes, Hermione had heard. Hermione nodded. "Then why do you want to go?"

Before Hermione could answer, the old lady looked behind Hermione's shoulder, and then she cowered back toward the wall. Hermione quickly turned and the man from the pub was standing in the doorway.

Hermione turned back toward the old lady, but she ran from the room, toward a room in the back. Hermione frowned, and turned back toward the man.

He said, "If you want to know about Glendora, no one in this village will answer any of your questions."

Hermione thought he was another person warning her off, and she was beginning to be weary of the whole thing. She ignored the same anxious feeling that she felt earlier in the pub and said, "Listen, it's my concern if I want to go there, so don't try to warn me away, like everyone else in this town. If you could tell me where I might find a book or something on it, or how I might find a ride to it, then you may speak to me, but otherwise, please, don't say a word."

The man raised one eyebrow, in question, and then he smiled. "If you had let me finish my sentence, I was going to say that no one in this village will answer your questions, but I will, if you would like."

"Are you not from this village?" she asked.

"Not in the least, Miss Granger," he said. She looked confused, until he held out his hand. "My name is Milo Dorchester. I heard what happened to your vehicle, and I thought you might need a way to the village today. I could take you right now, if you would like."

She looked at his raised hand, but didn't offer to shake it. He lowered it as she said, "I must get my things, and we have to get my partner, Draco Malfoy. He's an Auror, as I'm sure you know."

"Oh, yes, I know of Draco Malfoy," he said, though his smile vanished. "Perhaps I could take you to Glendora now, and he could come along later. Come along, let's go." He held out his hand again, but this time, it wasn't for a handshake. It was apparent he wanted her to take his hand.

His hand was still in the air, and she placed her hand inside it, without conscious forethought. She knew immediately it was a stupid thing to do, because he was a wizard, and she didn't know whether or not if he could disapparate with her, but as soon as their skin touched, she felt an overwhelming feeling of apprehension mixed with worry, which she could not completely describe, but she knew the feeling wasn't from side-along apparation.

She felt faint, and she thought she might actually pass out. The feeling from earlier…the charge of electricity in the air, the utter feeling of anxiety, suddenly consumed her again. Most of all, she could not look away from his eyes.

He kept her hand in his, and ushered her outside the little bookstore. It bothered her how willingly she allowed him to lead her, but she felt she had to obey. He helped her to a set of stone steps, and said, "Sit down. You seem ill."

She looked down at the cement of the sidewalk, the feeling of dread and darkness about to consume her, when she heard a man say her name.

"Granger!" Draco began to run toward her, from the far end of the street.

She looked up toward the sound of Draco's voice, and she felt safer and more centered. She looked from Draco to the man still holding her hand.

Milo Dorchester looked toward Draco, and then down at her, smiled and said, "I think your friend is calling for you. Perhaps I should allow you to make your own way to the village. Goodbye, until later."

She closed her eyes, to ward off the overwhelming feeling of nausea that overtook her when the man let go of her hand. She opened them again, and the man was gone, and Malfoy was already by her side.

She looked up at him and said, "Tell me you saw him this time."

Draco placed his hand on her shoulder, just as he had in the diner, and looked all around. He saw him alright. He saw him.


	4. Chapter 4 A History and a Mystery

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 4: A History and a Mystery:**

Hermione stood, still a bit unstable, and she reached out for the wall. Draco walked up the sidewalk, and then back again, his eyes scanning the area for the man in question, although he knew he was long gone.

He looked toward Hermione, who seemed pale and flushed at the same time. She was shivering, though it was not that cold outside. He walked up to her and asked, "Who was that?" He wasn't sure why he asked, because he knew the answer.

"Milo Dorchester," she answered, taking a steady breath, and then another. She removed her hand from the wall, and started to take a step toward Draco, but she faltered.

He stared at her and said, "You're so stupid sometimes." He huffed in anger. He was angry at her for leaving the pub, and he was angry at himself, for not realizing that she would leave the pub. He was calling himself stupid, as well as her.

That was just what she needed to hear at that point and time. "Malfoy, one word of warning," she began, leaning against the wall again. "Never, ever, call me stupid. If I didn't feel so wretched at the moment, and if I had my wand, I would show you why that is a bad idea."

He started to hand her wand to her and said, "This solves one of your problems." She took a step toward him, reached for her wand, but before she could take it, she stumbled again. He pushed on her shoulder, none to gently, and she plopped back down on the stairs where she had sat before.

"Stay there for a moment," he ordered, handing her wand to her. He looked about again, and then he walked back into the bookstore where she had just exited. She didn't know what was wrong with her, but she was worried. She was going to go blindly with that stranger, for that was what he was, a stranger. She wondered if he had her under the Imperius, and she just wasn't aware. Did he enter her mind somehow? Usually she could easily guard against such things. She took another deep breath, breathing out through her mouth, and she stood again.

Draco walked out of the bookstore with a glass of water, and the little old lady from earlier was behind him. "Here," he said, succinctly. She took the water and nodded her thanks.

The little lady said, "Are you okay, Sweetheart?"

"Fine," she answered. She handed the glass to the woman and asked, "Did you know that man?"

"Oh yes, we all know of him," she answered. Hermione thought it was strange that the woman said, 'we all know OF him,' instead of, 'we all know him'.

"Do you know his name?" Hermione asked.

Draco said, "Let's go, Granger." He pulled on her jacket sleeve.

"Wait!" she barked. She turned back to the woman. "He said his name was Milo Dorchester, and that he was from Glendora. Is that true?"

"Milo Dorchester," the woman confirmed, "but you knew that, didn't you?"

"Well, I knew that was what he told me," Hermione answered. "Why did everyone in the pub either leave or look away when he came near and why did you leave your own store when he entered it?"

Draco sighed and said, "Leave the old woman alone. Let's go." He reached out for her arm, but she moved so that he couldn't grab it.

"I don't mind answering your questions," the lady said. "I'm very glad you asked." She motioned toward the door of her shop.

"We don't have time for this, Granger," Draco whined. Hermione stared at him and wondered why he didn't want her to talk with the older lady.

"Go collect our things, and meet me here if we're in such a hurry," Hermione reasoned. She walked in the bookstore behind the woman. Much to her chagrin, Draco followed.

The woman pointed toward a door in the back of the store. She closed and locked the front door of the store and pulled down the blinds. Hermione and Draco entered a smaller room in the back that had a table and chairs.

On the table was a crystal ball and tarot cards. Hermione rolled her eyes and started out of the room, but ran right into Draco. Draco pushed Hermione back into the room and whispered, "Too late now, Princess. You wanted to hear what she had to say, so you're staying." He smiled as the old woman sat down.

Hermione remained standing until Draco repeated, "You wanted to hear what she had to say, Granger, so sit." He knew of her disbelief in the art of divination, and he knew she probably hated Muggle charlatans even more, therefore, he thought this might be fun.

The old woman motioned to Hermione to sit in the chair to her right. Hermione sat down, wearily, and Draco sat opposite the old lady. The woman said, "I'm a witch, like you, but to the members of this community, I'm just a crazy old lady who runs the used bookstore, and does fortunate telling and reads tea leaves in the backroom."

"How did you know we were wizards?" Hermione asked.

"Please, everyone knows who you are, Miss Granger," the woman said with a smile. "I mean everyone in our world. I also know you were sent here to investigate the murders of those young witches. You see, the Ministry officials and Aurors have already questioned me, but they didn't ask the right questions, so I couldn't tell them much."

"What can you tell us?" Draco asked, leaning forward in his seat.

"Nothing about those girls, and perhaps nothing useful about Glendora, but I'll tell you what I know, or at least, what I believe to be true about that man." She shifted in her chair a bit, and then said, "Tell me, Miss Granger, what do you know about Veela?"

Draco straightened up in his seat, then stood suddenly and said, "Granger, we don't have time for this. Come on." He held out his hand, just as Milo did to her earlier, the only difference was that she didn't feel compelled to take Draco's hand.

Hermione ignored Draco, even as he stood by the door to the little room, shifting from foot to foot.

Before Hermione could answer, the old woman said, "Veela are a race of semi-human, semi-magical creatures reminiscent of the Sirens of Greek mythology. They are nymph like creatures of Slavic mythology. In serbian legend, they are known as Vilas, or Vily, and they are nature's gurdians, caring for streams, trees and flowers. They can cause and cure illnesses. They almost always have fair complexions."

"They appear to be young, beautiful human women, and their appearance and especially their dance are magically seductive to almost all males. When Veela are angry, however, they transform into something more like Harpies, they assume the form like humanoid bird of prey, such as a vulture, their faces turn into cruel-beaked bird heads and long scaly wings burst from their shoulders. They can launch balls of fire from their hands."

"Veela have been known to marry magical human men, although it is unknown whether any have ever married Muggles. Children of these unions are half-Veela, and will inherit their magical ability from their fathers and beauty and charm from their mothers. Veela traits persist for at least a few generations."

Hermione listened intently, though everything the woman had just related to her, she already knew. She said, "Are you saying that this man, Milo, or better yet, the people of Glendora, are Veela? Are there male Veela?"

Draco huffed and said, "Granger, we have to go. This woman told you nothing that you didn't already know, and of course there are no male Veela."

"Sit down, Draco," Hermione said. She pointed toward the chair. He raised his brows, sat down, and then crossed his arms in front of him.

"No, there are no true male Veela," the woman confirmed, "but that wizard, Milo Dorchester, and the people of Glendora are not true Veela. The legend goes that many, many centuries ago, in Serbia, a beautiful veela tried to attract a man when he was lost in the woods, but somehow, he was resistent to her charms. It angered her, and she shot an arrow at the man, and he slumped over, presumable dead. At dawn she took him back to her coven, but he wasn't dead at all. At twilight, the next night, he awoke, and he killed all the Veela in her coven, except for the one that abducted him. He killed them by draining them of their blood."

"He was supposedly a vampire. He was refuted to be as dark as she was fair, and as handsome as she was beautiful. The two mated, and as much as a Vampire and and Veela could fall in love, I guess they did. Later, somehow, they had children. When it was discovered by other Vampires that they could mate with Veela, more Vampires came to that wooded area, mated with the Veela, and after many generations, they became a new race of people. They still possessed much of the powers and qualities of both Vampires and Veela. Because they were also magical, they were under the rule of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magic Creatures under the Ministry of Magic. As you know, any creature that has sufficient intelligence to understand the laws of the magical community, come under the control of the ones that shape those laws."

"However, this group set themselves apart from the rest of the magical community, as well they should. Their community was older than most, and they had traits not common to other wizards. They began to be more and more secretive, and more and more private and mysterious. They called themselves the 'Valdes' and they made up laws that were limited unto themselves. They felt they were no longer accountable to the Ministry of Magic."

"How do you know so much about them, and why do the Muggles of this area fear them so much? How do they know Milo Dorchester, in particular?" Hermione asked.

"Everyone here knows of the legend, some believe it, some don't. Everyone also knows that Milo is from Glendora, although he affects people differently. Some fear him, and some are in awe of him. As to how I know so much, well, I'm a descendent of the Valdes," she said, "although my family left over one hundred years ago. I'm under the ancient oath of the Valdes never to relay their secrets, yet my great-grandmother found a way around that. She put a charm on me at birth that allowed me the right to tell their story to any magical person who asks me questions about them directly, as you did."

"As for Milo Dorchester, his bloodline comes directly from the original Vampire and Veela; their names were Andre and Katrina. His is the oldest family, and he is the guardian over all the other families. He is sort of like their prince."

At the mention of the word 'prince' Draco pinched Hermione's arm. She winced, but paid him no mind.

"What type of magic does he possess, and do you think he had anything to do with the killing of those young girls?" Draco asked. Hermione looked at him almost in awe. She was glad he was finally interested and was asking questions, although he seemed to be in full 'Auror' mode at the moment.

"I have never personally been to that village, so I don't know the extent of their magical ability, although I would say it surpasses our own," the woman spoke.

Draco pointed at Hermione and said, "I don't know. That man might be the Prince, but this is the refuted Princess of Magic over here."

Hermione felt like hitting him, but instead she said snidely, "I thought I was Princess Pauper."

"That too," Draco sneered. "Maybe that's what attracted you to him, the fact that you're both royalty."

"You're royalty, too," she said, leaning closer to him. She mouthed, "You're a royal git."

The woman looked at Draco and then to Hermione and she said, "Would you like a word of warning?"

"Sure, whatever," Draco said with a shrug.

"Stay away from there. Dorchester seems drawn to young Miss Granger here, and her reaction to him was a bit out of the ordinary. I wouldn't be surprised if all of this wasn't arranged to lure her here for some reason, and even you, Mr. Malfoy, with your background and ancestry, won't be able to protect her, if that's true."

"Alright, we've heard enough," Draco said suddenly. He stood so quickly that he knocked his chair over. He took Hermione's arm tightly in his grip, opened the door to the little room, and he pulled her through the doorway, back to the front of the bookstore.

"Wait! What did she mean?" Hermione yelped. "What's your background? Why would he lure me here?"

"She's crazy, come on," Draco insisted. He wasn't going to let this crazy old seer tell Hermione anything before it was time for her to know. Draco didn't even know how the old women knew these things, but he wasn't about to wait around and find out.

"But we didn't even find out why everyone in this village seemed weary of the man, or how they seemed to know who he was," Hermione pleaded. "Stop, Malfoy!"

He pulled her through the door of the bookstore and back outside. She pulled out her wand and said, "Let me go!"

"Are you joking?" Draco asked. He let go of her arm and said, "Now you're going to curse me? Duel me? What?"

"I want to finish talking with her," Hermione replied.

Draco pulled her wand right out of her hand and warned, "Muggles are around, Granger!" He stuffed her wand back in his pocket and said, "We have to go. We'll pack and then find a way to the village."

"Draco, why are you here with me?" Hermione asked.

Draco kept walking.

She ran up along side him. This time, she pulled on his arm. "Malfoy? Answer my question!"

"Because I'm an Auror, and you will undoubtedly find trouble, as you so frequently do, so you need a bodyguard," he replied, even if it was only partially the truth.

He continued his jog down the sidewalk, and she stopped completely. He looked back and said a long line of expletives under his breath. He walked back to her and said, "What now?"

"Why would my old professor suggest I see this man, Milo Dorchester, if he meant me harm? Do you really think this has to do with me? Could those young girls' deaths be my fault somehow?" He could see the concern on her face, as these and probably a hundred more questions twirled around inside her head.

He closed his eyes for a moment and said, "No, they aren't your fault, and your professor probably just assumed that as leader of the clans or as the prince, or whatever barbaric thing this Dorchester fellow is, that he could best help you, that's all."

She sat down on a tall windowsill. He almost stomped his foot as he repeated, "What now?"

"Malfoy, I felt funny when I first saw him in the pub, and then later, when he took my hand in the bookstore, I felt almost like I had no control. I knew I shouldn't take his hand, but I did. I felt weak and apprehensive, and even mildly nauseated when he let me go. Why do you suppose that was? I've never been so easily persuaded before, and I didn't like it. I'm usually stronger than that."

He could see that she was genuinely worried. He really couldn't answer her questions without revealing too much. He placed his hand on the window, by her head, and he leaned down toward her, almost nose-to-nose and said, "You know you aren't a weak person, so stop being ridiculous. If you meet him again, and you find that you feel that way again, just fight that feeling. Fight it hard, or take out your wand and curse his arse."

"Then you think he had some control over me?" she asked. She looked up at him, with a combination of dread and worry.

He looked right in her eyes. They were dark brown, with gold flecks. Strange that he had never noticed that before. She had freckles, too, right across her nose, and even one on her chin. He wasn't sure he was ever close enough to her to notice before. No, that wasn't true. He had noticed before, but he made himself forget.

He mentally shook his head, and said, "First, no one could possibly control you. I've been trying to control you since we've arrived here, but you're still a first-rate, know-it-all, pain in my arse, who does whatever she wants, liking climbing out of toilet windows, and talking to old crazy ladies, so apparently, you can't be controlled. You probably just have a fever. That's it. You'll coming down with something." He lied, but so what? He lied often.

He even placed a hand on her forehead, in false concern. "Yes, you're warm. You definitely have a fever. You're probably delirious, too." Actually, he was the one that felt warm suddenly. "We'll let you rest today, and we'll go on to Glendora tomorrow, 'right?" He stood up and pushed away from her.

"I feel warm?" She placed her hand on her own forehead. "I don't feel warm to me, and I don't feel sick any longer. I only felt ill when he let go of my hand."

"Well, you look sick," he said harshly.

She shook her head. "Thanks. I can hardly stand all of your compliments. First I was stupid, and now I look ill." She stood up and they started strolling along. "Maybe we should stay here one more night. I'd like to ask a few locals what they know about Milo Dorchester. Maybe that young waitress from the pub would speak with me again."

"No, you're going back to the motel and you're resting, Granger. Potter will have my pretty, blonde head on a platter if anything happens to his little Princess."

She hit him as hard as she could on the shoulder with her fist. "HEY!" he shouted.

"Stop calling me Princess!"

He rubbed his shoulder and said, "I may be rude, but you're a brute." They turned the corner that led to the motel and Draco said, "I've just decided that your new nickname is Princess Brute."

"Ha!" she laughed, though it wasn't a real laugh. "You're so droll."

"How about Princess 'can't climb out a window without someone finding her'? Do you like that name better?" He laughed.

She said, "I shall call you Princess Annoying."

"Princess?" he asked.

She laughed and said, "That truly was a slip of the tongue. I meant 'Prince'. Sorry. I wasn't questioning your manhood, although I hear there are questions regarding it swirling around out there."

Now he laughed and said, "I'm all man, Princess." He unlocked the door to their room, and held open the door for her, as he said, "After you. See, I'm a true man. Chivalry is my middle name."

She smiled and said, "I thought it was 'Prat'." She bowed, and said, "Thank you, Prince Rude." She turned around, started through the door, and then screamed. She turned back toward him quickly, and ran directly into his chest. One of his arms went instinctively around her, but just as quickly, he placed her behind him and looked inside their room.

He gasped and then he quickly shut their door. He pushed her away from the doorway and said, "Stay here. I need to get the Muggle police."

* * *

_A/N: I wonder who's dead now? Congrats to those of you who thought about the Veela/Vampire connection in the beginning!_


	5. Chapter 5 A Fish and A Phone

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 5: A Fish and a Phone:**

Hermione sat on the side of the tub, in yet another room at the motel, their third in two days, and she rocked back and forth. She had her phone in her hand, but she didn't know who she wanted to call. Well, she wanted to call her mum, but what in the world would she say to her? Would she say, "Hello, Mum, it's me, Hermione, and I'm all alone up here in Scotland, investigating the deaths of two girls with my childhood nemesis, Draco Malfoy, and by the way, there was another murder and the body was found in our room. Oh yes, and my car was blown to bits."

She could call her dad, and say, "Daddy, I'm scared, for the first time in a long time, and I'm not sure why, but please come and get me." That was what she wanted to say.

Or she could call Harry, and say, "I'm sorry, but I can't do this. I don't know why, but for once I feel like I'm in over my head."

Because she truly wanted to make all three phone calls, yet the thought of any or all of them made her ashamed. She wasn't a quitter, she wasn't afraid of hardly anything, and she wasn't alone in all of this – Malfoy was here.

In fact, Malfoy was knocking on the bathroom door at that very moment. She stood, opened the door, and sat back on the side of the tub, her phone still in her hand.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you were on the phone," he said.

"I'm not," she replied. "How did she die?"

"Granger, why don't you take a nap? You look unwell, and this time, I'm serious. I'll bring you some lunch." Draco held out his hand and said, "Give me your phone."

"How did she die?" she repeated.

Draco let his hand drop and he said, "The same way the other two died, the witches from the University. She was drained of all her blood. There were claw marks all over her body, and there were deep bite marks as well."

Hermione felt like crying, but she didn't. "Did you call the Muggle police?"

"No, I decided at the last moment to call the Aurors, given that she was a witch, although since she was a resident of this town, her death will have to be explained somehow, but that's up for the Ministry to decide and handle, not us. The Aurors are cleaning up the room as we speak," Draco explained. He leaned against the door jam, and ran his hand through his hair.

"Is Harry here?"

"Why would Potter lower himself to do the dirty job of cleaning up a crime scene, and faking a woman's death?" he asked sarcastically. "He leaves the unpleasant tasks to others. He made me do the unpleasant task of babysitting you."

"That's not nice," she harped.

He held up one finger and said, "I'm rude, which we've already established," and then he held up another finger and said, "And I'm not nice. Thanks so much for clearing that up." He held up a third finger and said, "I'm hungry, too. I'm going to get us some food."

He turned to walk out of the bathroom, but then turned back. "Don't leave the room, okay? The windows have been sealed shut, so you can't climb out, and I still have your wand. If I have to lock the door with magic, I will, in fact, that's a good idea." He walked to the door of the motel, said a simple spell, and then walked back to the bathroom.

She was now sitting on the floor, turning her phone around in her hand. "What do you want to eat?" he asked.

"Nothing." She looked up at him and said, "Did you bring my suitcase and computer over to this room?"

"Yes," he answered.

"I need to add everything that old lady told us into my computer." She stood up and walked past him. She found her computer on the bed, opened it, and said, "Go on, get food. I'll be fine. I have work to do."

"You're ever so much fun, Granger," he said spitefully.

As he was leaving their room, her phone hit him square on the back. He turned quickly and she said, "A woman was killed probably because she spoke with us earlier, and you want me to be, what? Fun, entertaining, a barrel of laughs?"

"I wouldn't want you to be anything you've never been before, so no, none of those things, but you know you could stop being so damn depressed." That wasn't what he wanted to say. He couldn't say what he wanted to say, because he felt bad that she felt bad, and so he wanted to tell her he was sorry that she was upset and sad, but he couldn't let her know that. He bent down, picked up her phone, stuck it in his pocket, walked out of the room and _slammed_ the door hard.

He spoke with the other Aurors for a few moments, and then walked back to the pub where they ate breakfast. He walked up to the counter and ordered some food. While waiting, he asked the waitress from earlier if she had seen the dark-haired man that came into the pub that morning.

"Yes," the girl answered slowly. She looked toward the barman, and then she asked, "Why?"

"Is he from around here?" he asked.

"No," the barman answered in the waitress' place. "Listen, Mister, why are you asking about that man?"

"He just said something to my girlfriend earlier, and it upset her," Draco decided to tell them.

"The pretty girl with curly hair, from this morning?" the waitress asked.

"Yep, that's the one," Draco said back.

"I thought you just worked together. She said you were archeologists, and that you were heading toward Glendora," the girl alleged.

"We are, but we're together, too," Draco said steadily, trying to cover his lie. He wasn't sure why he lied about her being his girlfriend in the first place.

"What did the man say to her?" the barman asked.

Draco shook his head and said, "That's the thing, she won't really tell me, but she's not acting right." So far, that wasn't really a lie.

The man looked at the younger girl and then said to Draco, "Listen, my waitress told me that your car exploded last night, and I think you should take that as a sign to leave here. Take your girlfriend and leave, and if you see that man again, stay clear, okay?"

Draco nodded as the waitress handed him their food. He walked out of the door, but a few moments later the young waitress called to him. He walked back toward the pub.

She said, "He's from Glendora. Everyone around here fears him, but no one can really tell you why. He makes us all nervous, even though he's never said or done anything to any of us. None of the other villagers from Glendora ever leave there, but he does, all the time. There's something not right about him, but the odd thing is, so many of our young girls, me included, have found ourselves inexplicably drawn to him at one time or another, embarrassing enough."

"My girlfriend said he's a good-looking chap," Draco replied, "maybe that's the draw."

The girl shook her head even as she said, "No, it's more than that. I know for myself, I literally felt compelled one day to follow him. I found myself alone in an alley with him, and he took my hand, and the odd thing was, even though he didn't hurt me at all, I felt afraid after he left, and even a bit sad. I know that sounds strange. It's something everyone knows, but no one will talk about, Mister. Maybe he did something similar to your girlfriend. Maybe he didn't really say anything to upset her, perhaps he was just near her. That's usually enough to upset most of us." She smiled a sad sort of smile, and turned away. She called back, "I hope I helped."

Draco nodded. She helped more than she knew, because she confirmed his worst fear and his foremost suspicion.

Draco entered the motel room and Hermione once again had her computer on her lap, and papers and folders all around her on the bed. Without looking up at Draco as he entered she said, "Hand me my satchel on the dresser, oh and I need my phone back, please."

He frowned, but handed her the damn satchel, even as he threw the bag of food on the bed. He sat on the bed beside her, with his back against the headboard. He reached in his pocket for her phone, but placed it on the bedside table on his side. He sat back on the bed, his leg on several of her folders. She made a disgruntled noise, and pushed on his leg. Then she pulled the folders out from under him and she said, "Please, sit elsewhere."

He held up his hands and said, "In case you haven't notice, Princess, this isn't a four star establishment. There's one bed, two bedside tables, two lamps, one dresser, and one telly, which, I have to warn you, I plan to turn on...right…about…now." He pointed the remote decisively toward the telly, turned it on, and then opened the bag of food.

She closed her computer and placed it on the bedside table beside her. She looked in the bag and said, "Fish and chips? I hate fish."

"Then just eat the chips or starve," he said eloquently. He opened an ale from the bag, and took a large drink. She scooted to the edge of the bed, then stood and started toward the door. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"I hate fish and chips," she repeated. "I'll go to the pub and get me something else for lunch."

She opened the door, but before she knew it, he was standing behind her and he slammed it, (once again) right after she opened it. She sighed before turning to face him. "Why can't I go to the pub?"

"I brought you perfectly good food," was all he said in return.

"Which I don't like," she said condescendingly.

"Then as I said, starve. You look as if you could lose a stone or two," he spat. He knew when he turned his back to her that something was bound to hit him again. She didn't disappoint. This time she picked up a file from the dresser and hit him hard on the head. He smiled to himself, but when he turned to her he said, "You have quite the violent streak. Perhaps you need those Muggle anger management classes." He sat back on the bed, unwrapped his food, and started to eat.

She stood by the door and while still staring at him, she reached for the door handle. He kept his eyes on the telly, but said, "I wouldn't try it, Granger."

"Am I a prisoner?" she asked.

"No, just a ruddy pain in the arse," he said. He lifted the remote and turned the sound on the telly louder. Hermione's phone rang. He picked it up and tossed it to her. She sat on the edge of the bed and answered.

"Hello?" she asked. Draco looked at her back, as she spoke softly into the phone. He turned the televisions lower and he heard her say, "No, I know I didn't tell you exactly when I was going out of town, but I didn't know I had to." She looked over her shoulder, and Draco turned his attention back to the football match on the television.

Hermione stood up, walked to the corner of the room, pulled the drapes, and looked out the window, as the person on the other end of the phone monopolized the conversation. She said things such as, "I know," and "No," and "Yes," but not much else. Then she said, "I'm not alone, Draco Malfoy is with me."

Draco looked over at her again. She was twirling the string to the drapes around her finger. She looked at him and they stared at each other. She said, "No, he's being a perfect gentleman." Then she smiled at Draco, and he couldn't help but smile back.

Hermione dropped the string and sat back on the bed beside Draco and said, "You know him better than I do, Adrian, but really, he's being very pleasant. He's not being horrible in the least." She adjusted the pillow behind her as Draco laughed aloud at her lie.

He opened the other ale and handed it to her. He then clinked his bottle next to hers; she laughed a bit, and took a drink. She then said in the phone, "What? You think he's rude? Oh, Adrian, I find that hard to believe."

Draco almost spit out his ale. In fact, some dribbled down his chin. Hermione laughed again, but then said, "Adrian, please, I have to go. I have work to do on the investigation, and really, I don't think you should call me anymore. I think we need closure."

Suddenly her smile faded. She scooted to the edge of the bed again and she said, "That's not true, and you know it. Don't say hateful things that you might regret, Adrian."

Draco decided he had enough of this. He moved so that he was on his knees behind her. She turned her face slightly to his, even as the phone was still to her ear. Then Draco said, loud enough for Adrian to hear on the other end, "Hermione, sweetheart, come back to bed. I have a new position I want us to try."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Draco took the phone from her hand, turned it off, and then he sat back against the headboard again. He had a smirk on his face. "I bet he doesn't call again," he said with a grin. He tossed her phone back on the bedside stand.

Hermione had new awe and respect for the deviousness which was Draco Malfoy. She tried to hide her smile, but he saw it anyway. She crawled back toward the head of the bed, reached in the bag and said, "I might eat a few chips. I like chips." She stuffed a piece of fried potato in her mouth.

He said, "Well, excellent. After you eat your chips, we could try those new positions I mentioned." He sat back with a self-satisfied smile. Then, as if on cue, a pillow hit him right on the head.


	6. Chapter 6 A Bathroom and a Broom

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 6: A Bathroom and a Broom:**

"Do you want that last chip?" he asked her.

Draco and Hermione were sitting on the bed in their motel room, approximately an hour after they had started eating, and though he was done with his food, and most of hers, she still had one chip left, and he apparently coveted it.

"It's halfway to my mouth, so yes," she answered incredulously. She had the last chip from her box in her hand, heading toward her mouth.

"I'm just saying, if you don't want it I'll take it," he said.

"Malfoy, don't be dense, it's unbecoming," she barked. The chip was almost to her mouth again when he grabbed her wrist.

"Let's think about this for a moment," he said. He turned so that his whole body was facing hers, his fingers still tightly around her right wrist. "I want the last chip, and you want it. How shall we solve this dilemma? What do you think would be fair?"

She paused, then said, "It was my chip, you ate all of your own, some of mine, all of your fish, all of mine, so I say I get it. Let go of my wrist."

"Now, if you were truly the paragon of virtue that everyone deems you to be, you would at least split it with me," he said. He smirked and raised one eyebrow.

She wondered how he did that. She couldn't smirk if she tried, and she had never been able to raise one eyebrow independently of the other. She put the chip in her other hand as her answer to his 'paragon of virtue' comment. He grabbed that wrist, too. He was on his knees on the bed in front of her. She was sitting in front of him, her wrists held by his hands.

"Draco Malfoy, let go!" she said, though she almost laughed. Almost.

"Let me have one bite," he said.

"You can't still be hungry!" she spat.

He pouted a bit and said, "I'm a growing boy, Granger. I'm still hungry." He leaned forward and tried to bite it right out of her hand, but she was stronger than she looked and she pulled her hand right out of his grasp. She held it away, but he grabbed her hand again. He pulled her so that she was up on her knees, facing him.

They both tugged back and forth, and he almost had her hand toward his mouth when she decided to play dirty. She pushed her whole body into his, and he toppled to his back. In his shock, he let go of her left hand, which held the fated chip. She tried to put it in her mouth again, but he suddenly rolled them, so that she was on her back, and he loomed over her.

Then he grabbed her hand, moved his head, and he ate half of the chip. They both laughed, and then at the exact same moment they realized that they were in a compromising position. He stared intently down at her. She stared just as intently up at him. His chest was pressing into her breasts. His hands still held her wrists. His legs were over to the side on the mattress, so his entire weight wasn't on her, but still, she was breathing hard, and he felt every breath, every heartbeat, and each beat of her pulse.

She dropped the rest of the chip and it fell to the mattress by her head. She took even, steady breaths, which he counted…one, two, three. Then he leaned toward her, his breath mingling with hers, her lips full and inviting, because he wanted to kiss her, but before he could act on what he was about to do, he let go of her hand, moved off her as if she was on fire, and stomped off to the bathroom and shut the door. He even locked it.

She stayed on her back and stared at the door of the bathroom for what felt like forever. She felt embarrassed. She also felt aroused. She felt some of the things she felt with Milo Dorchester earlier, minus the fear and apprehension. She wasn't attracted to Prince Rude, was she?

And was he going to kiss her when he leaned forward? Hermione sat up. She swore he was about to kiss her. What would she have done? Would she have kissed Draco Malfoy? They didn't even like each other, did they? She looked down at the abandoned chip, put it in the bag with the rest of the trash, and then she stood up and grabbed her jacket and wand. She went over to get her phone, and then she stood outside the bathroom door.

She wanted to ask him if he was alright, but she realized that would be in vain, so she went over to the door of the room, opened it, and walked outside.

He ran in the bathroom to hide from her. Perhaps she didn't know he was going to kiss her. Perhaps she thought it was all just horseplay. It was the most arousing horseplay he had ever experienced, but she couldn't have felt the same. He heard the outside door open and he opened the bathroom door right after.

She left. He grimaced and cursed, grabbed his jacket and wand, and he ran out the door of the motel. He saw her walking down the street.

He caught up to her in no time. The sky was a dark grey, and the clouds towered high above them in colours of grey, white, black and even blue. It looked like it might rain. It was colder than it was earlier, and she had her arms tightly around her to ward of the cold when he reached her side. He had his jacket in his hand instead of on his body, so he offered it to her by hitting her arm with the hand holding the jacket.

"Take my jacket, you're cold." He continued to hold his jacket out in front of him.

"You'll be cold," she said back. "I have a jacket on."

"See, Granger, this is a selfless act. Take the effing jacket. If you had just given me your last chip, which also would have been known as selfless, nothing would have happened," he said. He knew that didn't make any sense. He knew he was a coward to blame her for the fact that he now felt like a horse's arse for 'almost' kissing her, and for hiding in the bathroom instead.

She stopped walking, took his jacket, and even though she wanted to throw it on the ground and stomp all over it, she slipped it over her shoulders. She pointed across the street and said, "There are some docks over there. We should go there and see if we can rent a boat to cross the gully to get to Glendora tomorrow." She was pointing toward some small boats and some docks.

He nodded and then began to jog across the street; absentmindedly he grabbed her upper arm and towed her along, as if she wouldn't follow otherwise. It was surprising to him how protective he was already becoming of her, and how it already felt like a natural thing.

Once they reached the docks, they walked over to a man who was on a small fishing vessel. "Sir," Hermione started. The man looked up at her as they stood on one of the docks and he stood on the deck of a boat. "Do you know anyone who might have a boat for hire, or who might take us somewhere in a boat tomorrow, for money, of course?"

"Where are you two wantin' to go, Lass?" the man asked.

"Glendora," she said. "We were going to drive, but we understand we would have to take a ferry across the Loch anyway, and we've experienced some car problems, so we thought we might take a boat."

The man frowned and said, "Aye, I heard ya where in town, looking for a way to get over there. I doubt anyone here will take ya. Go back to London." He threw his rope upon the wooden plank, and Draco leaned down to secure the line for the man.

He nodded his thanks, finished the job, and then nodded again and left. Hermione turned to Draco and said, "Well, we can't drive, no one will drive us, we can't apparate, and now we can't take a boat. How in the hell are we going to get to there?"

Draco smiled and said, "We'll fly." He pointed to a mop on the deck of the little fishing vessel.

"A mop?" she asked.

Draco knocked his fist on her forehead and said, "Use that thing between your ears for something besides facts and figures, Princess. We'll charm a couple of brooms, and we'll fly. Simple. I'm surprise you didn't think of it, after all, you're the brains of our operation, and I'm the looks." Draco started back toward the street and Hermione was right behind.

"You're the looks?" she asked as she caught up to him. They walked side by side back down the cobblestone street and he smiled over at her bashfully.

"Your looks aren't bad or anything, but mine are legendary, and let's face it, you're known for your intelligence," he reminded.

"I'm known for my smarts, but not my looks, right, I know," she said softly. She stopped to look in a window of an empty storefront. She was looking at her reflection.

He walked back toward her and said, "Your looks aren't bad, though."

"Yes, as you said," she reminded him. She stared at his reflection in the window and she couldn't help but smile. She said, "And you know, Draco, I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, that my looks aren't bad."

"Don't get used to it, and don't get a swelled head," he said with a crooked grin.

"Adrian said he was attracted to my mind first," she stated. "He said my looks were inconsequential to him."

"Bully for Adrian," Draco said without humour. Adrian was a ponce in Draco's opinion. She turned back to face him as a gush of wind blew. Her hair flew in her face. He didn't think her looks were inconsequential. He reached up and smoothed down her hair so that it was no longer flying in her face.

She shivered again, but not from the wind and cold, but this time it was from the intimacy of his touch. She hurried past him, confused by everything about him. Why did he just smooth down her hair? Why did he grab her arm when they crossed the street? Why did he almost kiss her on the bed earlier? Why did she feel safe and secure when he was near? She didn't even want to think about it.

To change the subject, in her mind at least, she asked, "Where will we find the brooms?"

"If there's not a general store, we'll steal them, everyone has brooms," he reasoned, walking beside her again. He looked over at her and she looked worried, and he knew she was thinking about more than just the brooms, and he also knew he was thinking about the same thing she was. He was letting himself get too close to her. Why in the hell did he touch her hair? He was letting his guard down. He was being careless. He would have to be more careful.

"What if the Muggles sees us? Don't you think a couple of strangers flying around on brooms might scare them more than the creepy people of Glendora?" she asked.

"We'll leave at midnight. The cover of darkness will help disguise us. Yes, darkness is our friend, Granger." He kept walking but she had stopped again.

He was almost to their motel before he noticed that she was no longer walking beside him. He jaunted back to her, as she sat on a bench outside the pub.

"What now, Princess?" he asked. He plopped down next to her.

"I'm not the best flyer," she admitted.

"No… do tell," he said slyly and with a smile. "I recall that from school, but really, there's nothing to it, and it's our best solution." He knocked his shoulder into hers and said, "You can do it. You probably can do anything, right?"

"Not really, no," she said solemnly. "I can't keep a boyfriend."

Draco didn't know what to say to that statement. He looked down at his hands, which he had clasped together in his lap. "What happened to you and Adrian?"

"Have you ever done something that you knew wasn't right, but you did it anyway?" she asked, instead of answering his question.

"Well, hell, Princess, that's been my primary way of acting most of my life," he answered flippantly. "What does that have to do with you and Adrian?"

"I knew we weren't right together, but I wanted to make it work anyway," she answered. "That's all." She stood up and stretched. It was an innocent, natural movement, but he watched her intently…the way her breasts rose when she stretched her arms in the air, and the way her neck leaned to one side, showing the long, creamy white column. Now he shivered, and it wasn't from the cold either.

His jacket slipped off her shoulders and fell to the ground. He stayed on the bench and reached down for it. "Sorry," she said.

He nodded, because words wouldn't come to him at that moment even if he tried. He slipped his arms into his jacket and stood up. He stood in front of her, and instead of saying what he wanted to say he said, "Last one to the motel has to kiss Harry Potter on the lips the next time they see him. GO!" He turned from her and dashed down the street. She laughed and followed.

He slowed down so she could catch up to him, but he wasn't about to let her win, because there was no way in hell he would ever kiss Potter, even if his life depended on it. He acted as if he had a stitch in his side, and he stopped, bent over, and said, "Oh no, you're going to win," as she ran by him.

Then, she did something that shocked him. She stopped, too. She turned around, her hair wild around her head again, her cheeks rosy and flushed from exertion, her eyes shining bright. She walked back toward him and said, "Are you okay?" She placed her hand on his back.

He stood up, but her hand remained. He thought she was the oddest person he had ever known in his life. He said, "You **are** a paragon of bloody virtue, Granger." Then he pushed her slightly, laughed, and ran ahead of her. He reached the edge of the motel and turned back and said, "I win! I swear you're so gullible! That was an act!"

"Forgive me for caring," she said as she walked toward him, her hand on her side, nursing a true stitch. "I don't mind losing. I've kissed Harry before."

Draco had a look of total and complete disgust on his face and he said, "Please, I already think I might throw up from all the fish and chips I ate, and then from running just now, but if you give me the mental image of you and Potter kissing, well, I really will lose it."

She made a kissing noise toward him and said, "It wasn't that sort of kiss, Malfoy."

"You don't know what sort of kiss my mind is imaging," he argued. "Nevertheless, anything involving Potter and lips makes me sick."

"At least you didn't say anything to do with me and lips make you sick," she said as she slid past him to their door. She stopped short and announced, "I'm having a flashback. I think I'm afraid to open the door."

"Afraid Potter will be in there with his lips at the ready?" he asked dryly. He went to unlock the door with his wand.

"No, I'm afraid there will be a murdered woman in the room," she said.

"Oh," he uttered. He actually pushed her behind his body again, which she thought was sort of sweet, and then he unlocked the door with his wand. He opened the knob slowly, and pushed the door in. He took one step forward, and leaned in to look around.

He said, "The coast is clear. No dead bodies, no Veela/Vampires, and no Harry Potters."

He stepped in the room and she stayed in the doorway. She said, "What are we going to do until Midnight? I don't think I can look at another file regarding the case, I just don't know if I can. I'm not hungry, I'm not tired, and apparently Harry's not around for me to snog. It's only three in the afternoon. What shall we do?"

He raised his brows and said, "If it's snogging you want, there was a toothless beggar at the pub who looked your type. I could fetch him for you."

"I could kiss you," she said lightly. She laughed and pushed her way into the room. He stood near the doorway, looking outside, away from her, with his mouth agape. Was she joking? Please, she had to be joking. He turned slowly, and when she saw the look on his face she said, "My goodness, Malfoy, I was joking. You look as if someone killed your favourite pet. Is the thought of kissing me that horrendous? If it is, just run and hide in the bathroom again."

She kicked off her shoes and sat on the edge of the bed. She picked up the remote from the middle of the mattress and turned on the television.

He slammed the door hard and said, "I didn't hide in the bathroom to avoid kissing you, Granger, although, kissing you wasn't even in the cards, understand? I wouldn't kiss you if you were the last woman, oh hell…" He couldn't finish his thought. He sat beside her and picked up the remote and turned off the television. He said, "Okay, I hid from you, because I thought I wanted to kiss you earlier. How bizarre is that? I mean, seriously, the thought of us kissing is as farfetched as Potter and I kissing."

"Harry is a pretty good kisser, you might like it," she said, though she felt totally mortified. He never really wanted to kiss her earlier, so now she felt like such a fool. She looked down at the carpeting. It was an ugly orange colour, and it had large stains all over it. "And I was joking. I know you would never want to kiss me." She stood up and walked deliberately toward the bathroom.

She continued, "I'll take a bath now, so I'll be ready for tonight. You go out and find us some brooms." She shut and locked the bathroom door.

He turned on the television, lay back on the bed, and stared up the ceiling. There was a large water stain right above the bed. How disgusting. He said in a whisper, "Who ran and hid in the bathroom to avoid a kiss this time, Princess?"


	7. Chapter 7 A Crowd and a Spell

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 7: A Crowd and a Spell:**

The rest of the day was strained between the Auror and the Expert. After Hermione's bath, she had a relatively busy afternoon. She worked more on her computer, looked at the crime scene photos from the previous murders and the one from today, went to their old motel room to collection trace magical DNA from the most recent crime scene, and then she sent a secret Owl to Harry to ask him to send her the latest notes from the murder of the witch from that morning.

On the other hand, Draco's day was boring. He watched as Hermione worked on her computer, looked at crime scene photos, collected magical DNA from their previous room, and then watched as Hermione wrote Harry a note and sent it by secret Owl.

They didn't talk about anything important. They were polite and courteous to each other, which was odd and stressful for both of them. When Hermione needed a file, she would say 'please' and he would hand it to her, so then she would say 'thank you'. When Draco wanted to read something she had just written on her computer, he would ask her politely, she would move to the side and say 'of course' and he would nod his thanks.

They said words like 'pardon' and 'excuse me'. They smiled plastic little smiles. They touched each other, he on her arm, she on his hand, he on her back, she on his shoulder, and though it always seemed as if it was by accident, it was deliberate on both their parts and it made them both dizzy with something close to desire.

The fact that they weren't acting themselves made them both ill. She liked when he called her names and tried to bully her, though he never succeeded. In turn, he liked it when he flustered her, teased her, and when she would give in to him in the end.

Neither talked about the 'almost' kiss from earlier, which Draco now denied, and Hermione was now certain she had misread. They didn't fight or bicker or call each other one 'name'. All in all, it was a terrible afternoon.

When the darkness of evening finally came, early since it was now autumn, Draco decided to go back to the pub to get them some dinner. This time he asked Hermione what she wanted to eat, and this time she told him, "Anything but fish and chips."

As he was leaving the room he paused. The whole nice thing was bordering on the ridiculous. He turned back to her and said, "Listen, why don't we just go eat at the pub together, Princess? When we get back, we'll pack, and leave. I stole us some brooms, so we don't have to wait until midnight."

She wanted to smile because he called her Princess. It was the first time he called her anything besides Granger all afternoon. "I think that sounds like a good idea, because I don't really relish ending up at Glendora at midnight. Do we know where we're going once we get there?" she asked.

"To some castle called Rhodeana Castle," Draco answered. He put on his jacket and then held hers up for her. As if it were a natural thing, she let him place her jacket on her arms. She turned once she had her arms in the sleeves and in a bizarre, intimate gesture, he buttoned the top button.

She looked down at the top button and then up to his face, but he had already turned to walk out the door. In reality, he had rushed out the door to cover for his embarrassment at having buttoned her top button. He really didn't know what was happening to him, but he didn't like it one bit. He was being too nice to her, and it was too easy to be nice to her, and he was becoming more and more attracted to her, and being nice, and finding her attractive wasn't going to do either one of them any good. He wanted things to go back to the way they were just yesterday! He wanted to find her annoying and irritating and not in the least bit attractive. He wondered if it was too late for that. He knew it probably was. He warned Potter this would probably happen it HE was the one to accompany her here. Damn that former Gryffindor.

He didn't even wait for her. He walked down the sidewalk alone, and when he arrived at the pub, he opened the door and walked in to find that the establishment did as bustling a job in the evening as it did for breakfast. He sat at the bar and ordered a pint of ale. He looked up as the door opened and she walked in a few minutes after he did. She looked around, and when he realized that she didn't see him he rolled his eyes, and held up his hand.

"Over here, Granger!"

She acknowledged him and walked up to the bar. "Can we sit at a table or a booth?"

"You can sit wherever you want. I'm sitting here," he pointed out, being openly rude. He needed to distance himself from her. He needed to be rude again. He needed it! He knew he should stop and examine his feelings and that he owed her that much, but the very thought of it caused him so much pain that he could barely stand it. If he wanted to protect her, he needed to detach himself.

The barman asked him if he knew what he wanted and he ordered, turning away from her. Hermione felt slighted, but she sat next to him anyway.

"What will you be havin' Lass?" the man asked.

"Just some water to drink and I think I'll have the special to eat," Hermione ordered. The man smiled at her, but before he could walk away, she asked, "Sir, can you tell us anything about Glendora?"

The man frowned and said, "Your boyfriend here already asked us about it earlier, so there's no need for you to be askin'."

"My boyfriend?" she questioned, completely confused. She looked over at Draco.

Draco placed his hand on her arm, which was resting on the bar, to warn her not to ask anymore questions. The man skulked away, and Draco leaned over and said, "Enough questions, Granger. Besides, I already questioned this man earlier today."

"Well I didn't know that, did I? Why would he assume you were my boyfriend?"

"Why would he assume I wasn't? I could be your boyfriend if I wanted to be," Draco pouted. He knew it sounded stupid the moment it left his mouth, and he also knew the man assumed they were together because Draco had told them so. "Anyway, I'm the one that should be offended. I'm not exactly happy that he assumed I would have someone like you for a girlfriend."

She sighed loudly. "I'm sorry he assumed that, Malfoy," she said sarcastically. "You could have told me you already asked around about Glendora today. You haven't exactly been terribly forthcoming with me. In fact, you've barely spoken to me this afternoon." She took her water and she moved to an empty booth near the front of the bar.

A large, older man walked in the bar and held up his hands. Everyone turned to look at him. "Everyone, I have an announcement." Draco turned on his stool. "Violet Edgewater was murdered this afternoon. Her body was just found in an abandoned boat, in the loch between our village and Glendora, and the local officials say that she died the same way that those two young girls did, six months ago."

The man looked right over at Hermione as she sat alone in a booth and he said, "You're new to town, and you're traveling alone, aren't you? What are you doing in our town, Miss?"

Hermione caught Draco's eye. She looked distressed, and suddenly he knew that his feelings weren't paramount any longer, and damn it all, how had that changed in the course of a couple of days? She had made him care for her, and he didn't like it one bit. He was always used to everything being about him, but right now, he wanted to shield her and comfort her and protect her, and wasn't that a fine kettle of fish.

The metaphorical knife he felt twist in his gut at seeing her distressing gaze shook him to the core, and he knew he had to ignore the odd feelings of want and frustration if he wanted to gain his control, and if he meant to truly protect her, which she was in constant need of, apparently.

Before Hermione could answer the first man's question, someone else spoke. "I saw you go into her store today," a person said as they pointed at Hermione. "And you've been asking everyone about Glendora."

The man who made the announcement turned to Hermione. "The constable said that Violet's boat was coming from Glendora. Tell me, young woman, what business do you have there? Why are you asking so many questions about it? What business did you have with Violet today?"

Hermione saw at least twenty people look directly at her. She stood up and decided to continue with her cover story. She said, "I'm an archeologist, and I work for the same University that the murdered girls worked for, and I'm continuing their work. I'm heading there this evening, and as far as the murdered woman goes, well, I didn't even know her name. I merely went into her bookstore today, and I asked her if she had any books on the place, that's all."

"I saw her outside the bookstore with that man from Glendora! That Dorchester man! He had her hand!" another woman yelled. She pointed her finger at Hermione as well.

Draco took a step toward her.

The barman said, "She just asked me some questions about it, too, and apparently, this chap said that Dorchester said something distressing to the young lady earlier. What did he say to you, Lass?"

"He didn't say anything!" Hermione insisted. She started to back toward the door.

Draco felt for his wand, just in case.

"Make her show her credentials!" a man shouted. "If she works for a University, she should have some credentials!"

Two men blocked the door. One pushed Hermione toward the crowd.

The crowd started to circle around Hermione. Everyone began shouting at once. Some began to make bogus claims…"I saw her last week asking questions,"… or "I saw her on the moors with Dorchester last evening," and one person even said, "I think she was in the boat with Violet."

Draco moved around the back of the crowd. He didn't know if he could stun an entire room of people, or if he could obliviate the memories of this many people, but he knew he had to get Hermione out of here.

The man who delivered the bad news about Violet said, "Why are you really going to Glendora, woman? No more lies! Who are you?" He made the mistake of grabbing Hermione's arm. He tugged her near him, but she pulled out her wand, and before Draco could rush to her side, she flicked her wand in the air, and then suddenly, everyone went still.

They were suspended in time. Draco looked at her with surprise and he said, "What spell was that?"

"The question really is, Malfoy, how long will it last?" she asked. She held out her hand to him and nodded.

He looked at her hand, smiled and said, "How long will it last?"

"Let's put it this way, last one to our motel not only has to kiss Harry Potter on the lips, but they have to get away from a mad, angry crowd." He took her hand, and they ran toward the door. This time he held it open for her, and they ran all the way to their motel.


	8. Chapter 8 A Book and a Kiss

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 8: A Book and a Kiss:**

They reached their room and began to pack all their things quickly. They were just as silent this time as they were earlier in the afternoon. She shrunk all of their things and put them in her satchel. He grabbed her satchel and placed it over his chest. He grabbed the two brooms, which he had pilfered from the janitor's closet of the motel earlier, and they left the motel room, side by side, still running, and oddly enough, he held out his hand for her, as she did earlier for him, and just as he did earlier with her, she took it without question.

They ran hand in hand as far away from the village as they could.

When they were well out of town, Draco let go of her hand, leaned against a tree, and he started to laugh. "What the hell, Granger, I thought I was going to have to save you from an angry crowd, and you saved yourself! I didn't even hear what spell you used."

"It was a silent spell. It's a suspension spell, and I also oblivated all of their memories, but I'm not sure how well it took, being silent and all, and since there were so many of them," she said.

He looked at her in awe. "You aren't the princess of magic, you're the blooming queen. Hail, Queen Hermione." He bowed.

"Stop that," she grinned. "I just know some handy little spells and charms, that's all."

He pointed toward the road where they had just come and he said, "Handy little spells and charms! There were at least twenty people back there, Granger! Why aren't you an Auror?"

She grinned again and said, "Better question, why are you?"

"Hey!" he said, with indignation.

"I'm joking with you, I'm sure you had the situation well in hand," she said coyly.

"I did," he claimed. "I was going to bust in there and save you at any moment." She pursed her lips. "I was!" He handed her a broom and added, "Well, this makes things a bit harder, because I would have liked to have left near the loch, to put us closer, but now we'll have to leave from here."

"Draco?" She placed the broom he handed her on the ground. "Why do you suppose the Aurors decided to make it appear that witch from the bookstore was murdered by someone in Glendora? I mean, she was murdered here. Don't you think that's rather like planting false evidence?"

"Not really, since the Muggle constables won't investigate anyway, it doesn't matter. We know the truth, and the truth really is that she probably was killed by the same person, even if she wasn't killed in Glendora," he answered.

"The magical DNA I picked up in our room was sparse to non-existent, so she really might have been murdered elsewhere, and then placed in our room," she said, thinking aloud.

"Exactly," he said.

"I think we need to exam her bookstore," she said suddenly.

"Granger, is this an excuse to keep from flying?" he asked.

"No," she insisted, though it was. "I think we need to rule out that she wasn't murdered there either, unless the Aurors have already checked it out."

Draco thought for a moment and he said, "Well, their report isn't completed, but I would assume they did check out the woman's house and store, because I know I would have. We can wait and read the report."

"But shouldn't we check it out, too?" she said. "It won't take us long, and we can leave right after."

"Are you certain this has nothing to do with your fear of flying?" he asked.

"Malfoy, be reasonable," she said. She placed her arm around his shoulder. "I'm not afraid. Do you think this looks like the face of a woman who's afraid? I'm the Queen. The Queen isn't afraid, Malfoy." She smiled sweetly at him.

He gave her a dubious gaze and then said a resounding, "No." Then he swallowed hard, and he moved away from her. He rather liked it when she was close to him. He rather liked her arm around him. He rather liked…her, and no, no, NO, this would never do. Time to up the 'rude' a notch or two.

"Get on your bloody broom, Granger and get your arse in the air!" he hissed. He handed her broom to her.

A few minutes later they were side by side, on the floor in an aisle between two shelves of the woman's bookstore, examining books by wand light.

She was leaning down, looking at a book on a bottom shelf when he said, "Tell me again why we're in this bookstore instead of in the air on the way to Glendora?" He was truly perplexed. Was she a master manipulator? Perhaps she used some sort of persuasion charm on him. He knew it wasn't the Imperius curse, but she was using some sort of silent spell on him just as surely as she used that silent spell on those people at the pub, because there was no other way to explain why he kept giving into her every wish and whim.

Because somehow they took her car the other night, when he wanted to take his own, somehow they were in the old woman's bookstore, examining everything in sight by wandlight, when he wanted to be in the air. Somehow, even odder still, as much as he tried to be rude and mean to her, it didn't seem to change how he felt one iota. He was starting to fall for Hermione Granger.

He leaned against the shelf and moaned.

She was still sitting on the floor, examining the books on a lower shelf, when she heard him moan. She looked up and said, "Are you okay, Malfoy?"

"No, most definitely, I'm not okay, Princess," he bemoaned. He moved to sit beside her. "Tell me how reading is helping you find out how the old, crazy woman died."

"It's not," she admitted. She placed the book she was reading on his lap and said, "Look." She held her wand up higher so he could see the page she was reading illuminate with light.

He read a passage or two, then picked up the book and looked at the cover. It was called, Fables and Folktales of the Lochs. He looked at her and said, "Three women were murdered, Granger! We should be on our way to Glendora to discover what happened right now, but because of your fear of all things fast and high, you drag me here to collect evidence, and instead you're reading a fairytale?"

"Oh, shut up, and use your pretty blonde head for thinking!" she laboured. She grabbed the book from his hand.

"You think I'm pretty?" he asked with a lazy grin.

"Malfoy, please," she said. He knocked his shoulder into hers and raised his brows in question again. She rolled her eyes and whined, "Come on, you know you're pretty. You said as much earlier. You know you're pretty just as much as I know I'm smart. It's what we are, right?"

He frowned and said, "So then, I'm only good looking, and not smart, and you're only smart, and not good looking?"

She shrugged and said, "I don't know. I think your statement confuses me a bit. Let's get back to this book." It didn't really confuse her, but she didn't want to examine it. She opened the book again, but handed it to him. She pointed out the table of contents. "Look at the titles to the stories. All of the titles have to do with the people of Glendora. They mention the village, they mention the castle where we're going, they mention the Valdes, and they mention Andre and Katrina." Her finger ran down the page. She turned the page and then pointed to the title of the last story.

Draco read aloud, "Milo and the Maiden Fair." He looked at Hermione and said, "So you think this is what, more of an accurate history of the place, than a book of fairytales?"

She nodded. "Maybe the curse that keeps everyone in Glendora from speaking of their secrets doesn't extent to writing about them as children's fairytales?" She pointed to the author's name on the front cover. It was written by the witch that was killed, Violet Edgewater.

He raised his brows, but shrunk the book and placed it in the satchel which was beside him on the floor. They might as well take it with them. He placed his legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankles. He leaned back against the wall and watched as she got up on her knees to lean forward to reach for another book. His assessment from yesterday, that she had a nice bum, held true again today.

"Hey, Princess?" he said.

She pulled another book from the lowest shelf and turned to face him. She sat with her back against the stacks, opposite him, her legs out beside his. "Yes, Prince?"

"I'm glad we came to the bookstore. You'd make a good Auror, you know."

She blushed a bit, and even in the dark din of the bookstore, he could see her blush and he felt another stirring of want. "So you said. I'm smart, with adequate looks."

She opened the book in her lap and he knocked his leg into her as he said, "Hey, Granger."

"What?" She didn't even look up.

"Your looks are more than adequate," he said. He felt like such a fool. What man in his right mind told a woman that her looks were 'more than adequate'?

She looked him right in the eye and her mouth opened a bit as if she wanted to say something, but nothing came out. She was bemused by him. She truly was. She bit her lip and then turned back to her book.

He opened the satchel, pulled out the book of fairytales, enlarged it again, and then turned to the last story. He began to read when he heard her say, "You're more than a pretty face, too. You're very smart. I've always thought so."

He closed the book again and said, "Really?"

"Of course," she answered.

"Come here, Granger," he whispered. He placed the book on top of the satchel.

"I'm already sitting in front of you," she whispered back.

He patted the place beside him. She moved awkwardly so that she was right beside him. She looked up at him, expectantly. He said, "I did want to kiss you earlier, when we were on the bed."

"I wanted you to kiss me earlier," she replied, "when we were on the bed."

"Why?" he asked.

"Why?" she asked back, confused.

"Why did you want me to kiss you?" he clarified.

"Why did you want to kiss me?" she asked back. She looked down at her lap.

He frowned, and then made a sort of growling noise. This conversation was going nowhere fast. He should kiss her, get it over with, find out that it's as terrible as he imagines it will be, and then he can go about his work as he planned. He turned to look at her and she was still staring downwards.

He placed a finger on her chin and hesitantly he pulled her chin up so that she was forced to stare into his eyes. The physical presence of him made her heart leap into her throat.

He wondered what it would feel like to kiss the skin on her neck, and her cheek, and her chest. His finger went from her chin and it began a solitary trek up to her cheek. It was soon joined by his other fingers. He caressed her cheek softly, and then she expelled a whispering, soft, scented breath and he was undone.

"Kiss me, Granger," he whispered hoarsely. He bent his head toward hers. She would have to make the next move. He wasn't sure why, but he knew that it had to be that way. She had to be the one who wanted this, or he couldn't live with himself.

The thought of kissing Draco made her senses swirl. Heat filled her soul and she parted her lips and she leaned into his touch. Why did she have to be the one that kissed him? He should make the first move, after all, he tried to kiss her earlier and he chickened out. He needed to be a man, and just kiss her. She would tell him so. "If you want a kiss, Malfoy, then you'll have to kiss me."

Ah, so that was the way it was. He wanted to smile, but he kept his emotions in check. "I hope you know what you're asking for, Princess." He leaned forward, moved his hands so that they were on her cheeks, and his mouth took hers gently, but without hesitation. Her lips parted a little, as her hands went to his shoulders, and she shifted on the floor to face him slightly. His lips moved over hers sensually, with want and feeling. Her lips were pliant under his.

He kept the kiss tame and he refrained from seeking the quench to his constant thirst, even though her hands were now on his chest, burning a hole in his shirt. He felt every raw emotion keenly, and he applied a bit more pressure, then he slid his lips from her mouth to her cheek, and then he kissed her cheeks slowly, the right one, and then the left one. He took in the scent and feel of her skin. It was more than he expected.

He pulled her over to his lap, and she came willingly, and Draco knew that Hermione never did anything that she didn't want to do. He looked down at her. One arm was around her back, and the other touched her face. He said, "I'm fascinated with your little freckles, Princess." He leaned down and kissed each one that he saw. She shivered in his arms.

He needed more. He wanted to see more, taste more, and have more. He wanted to plunder her mouth and body and soul until she had nothing more to give, but he knew this was not the time or place. He kissed the last freckle, the one on her chin, and with a gentleness that shocked even him, he touched her face once more, lifted his head and said, "You win again. It seems you always get your way. I kissed you instead of the other way around."

He released her from his arms and she scrambled to her knees, and she tried to crawl back over to the other side of the aisle, but his hand clamped down on her ankle. She looked over at him, but he had his finger over his mouth. He motioned at her not to make a sound and she suddenly knew why. They were no longer alone in the bookstore.

* * *

_A/N: __Every few months some pointless review is submitted to one of my stories...something that isn't constructive, something that is personal, (like calling someone 'stupid'), something which would be better received and perhaps even corrected if sent in a PM and said differently, because if someone finds several mistakes or something in my stories, I will go back and correct them, but each time I am personally attacked, or called a name, or someone is overtly hateful, it gets to me, but that's my problem, not any of yours. Below is such a review, which I have already deleted. I have once again turned off anonymous reviews because this person didn't have the courage to sign in, although they didn't seem to have any problem attacking me personally. If they would have been less of a coward, and signed in, I would have blocked them from reading my story and report them to this site. To all of you who have sent wonderful anonymous reviews, I'm sorry and thank you for your nice reviews and thoughts._

_It's difficult on this site, because people seem to be usually cruel and rude sometimes, and being 'faceless' and 'nameless' feeds this kind of cruelty, immaturity, and let's face it...stupidity. I continue to consider leaving this site for stricter sites that do not allow such things, like 'Granger Enchanted' and this is something I shall have to think about again. This might be my last story on this site. I don't know. I just can't abide mean, cruel, pointless, unhappy, unfullfilled people taking out their unhappiness on others. It's stupid...I'm not stupid._

_Here's the review from the person who signed in as "Smarter Than You", and who is probably really a child who has nothing better to do than attack people on the internet. (I have gotten reviews from this person before, much the same type)._

* * *

**from: SmarterThanYou**

**2009-07-07 . chapter 1 **

**The cuts were shallow, almost human, yet deep...Not possible, they're either shallow or deep. You're stupid. **

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	9. Chapter 9 A Scuffle and A Gun

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 9: A Scuffle and a Gun:**

Hermione Granger closed her eyes as Draco Malfoy pulled her back over to his lap, but this time there was nothing romantic about the act. He had his hand over her mouth. They heard several voices, definitely more than two, and they were men. They heard the sound of rustling, and of moving furniture and shelves.

Then they saw a boom of bright, white light. Draco rolled so they were both on the floor, with him on top of her, covering her from any wand fire or curses, which he was certain was to follow. All that followed was a curse word and the sound of now only one man's footsteps, and he was coming closer.

Draco got up on his hands and knees, and he motioned that Hermione should stay where she was. He apparated to the other side of the store. She pulled her wand out of her coat pocket and hurried to put the books that they found back into her satchel.

Then, she heard two men in what was apparently a wizard's duel. She heard the crash of bookshelves, she heard the sounds of a shout, and she saw green and white lights reflecting and bouncing off the shelves and walls.

Then, everything was quiet. Too quiet. She got up to a crouch, placed the satchel around her shoulders, and crawled over to the end of the aisle, to see what she could see.

She saw Draco Malfoy straddling Milo Dorchester.

Draco was frowning, his wand under the other man's chin.

Milo Dorchester moved his head slightly, as if he sensed Hermione's presence. He looked at her and said, "Would you mind telling Mr. Malfoy who I am, Miss Granger, so that he'll get off me? He's heavier than he appears."

Hermione stood and held up her wand, to cast light around the small, dark shop. Among the littered books, knocked over shelves, and debris was the body of three men, all apparently unconscious, and Draco and Milo, who were not.

Draco hopped off Milo before Hermione could ask him to do so. He motioned with his hand for Hermione to come closer. She walked calmly to his side, her eyes never leaving the other man, even as Milo stood and then brushed off his clothing. "What are you doing here?" Hermione asked. She not only wondered what he was doing there, but she wondered why she didn't feel as 'peculiar' as she did the first time he was near. She had an odd feeling that it was because Draco was close by, or perhaps because Draco had his hand on the small of her back. She would examine that theory another time.

"I was watching this bookstore, and I saw these Muggles enter," he explained. "I thought I'd best investigate. I knew the old woman was killed early this morning, and I didn't know what they meant to do here."

"What did you mean to do here?" Draco asked.

"I could ask you the same," Milo said sternly. "Violet was still a member of our clan, even though she was born and raised here. Her murder was a tragedy, and when we heard of it, I came here. I was outside the store when I saw the men enter. I entered right after, and I knew you both were in here, so that's why I stunned them. I thought they would discover you, or cause you harm."

"How did you know we were here?" Hermione asked.

He looked right at her for a long time. Her wand, still held in the air, was the only source of light, and it danced along her features, as well as his. He then looked at Draco and said, "Would you like to explain to her how I would know that she was here, Cousin?"

"Cousin?" Hermione almost dropped her wand. She turned to Draco.

Draco dropped his hand from her back, looked shocked, and said, "I'm no relation to this man! I've never even met him!" Draco lit his wand and pointed it to Milo and said, "Why would you call me that?"

"We consider everyone who is at least two-natured, no matter how far removed, to be our kin, but maybe it's my mistake," Milo said cryptically, "Or perhaps it is just something you don't wish to discuss, or wish for her to know." He cocked his head toward Hermione. "No bother. I believe everyone has the right to secrets. I merely want to make sure you are both safe, and that you make it safely to Glendora."

Hermione frowned, because she had so many questions, but she knew she had to ask the most pressing ones first. "Everyone here wants us to stay away from Glendora, and you want us to come, and you'd think it would almost be the other way around. Your village abhors outsiders, so why would you want an Auror and a expert of magical DNA to dig around into your private affairs? You do realize that we will be investigating these murders with the assumption that someone in your village, one of Valdes, murdered these girls, correct?"

He smiled. His smile was seductive, alluring, and Hermione thought it also seemed slightly dangerous. "I realize that, Miss Granger, but when I offered my assistance to your old professor, I meant it. I don't want trouble in my village. I don't endorse the murder and maiming of innocent people, Miss. I also know that it's better to have you and Mr. Malfoy come in and try to solve this, with my help, than to have a bevy of Ministry officials come in and bother my people, as they think they have the right to do."

"Your people?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, my people. I am, for all intents and purposes, their leader, if you will. Ours is an ancient, patriarchal system, which I don't think you will quite understand. We aren't your average witches and wizards, but since you called us by our real name a moment ago, Valdes, I know that you must know that," he finished.

He looked around the room and said, "I don't know about you two, but I would rather not be here when they wake. Shall we go?"

"How shall we go?" Draco finally asked, a bit sarcastically.

"How were you planning to come to my village in the first place?" Milo asked pointedly. "I know your car was destroyed, and I know that though I can apparate, you cannot."

"We were going to fly," Draco said. "We have brooms stored to the side of the building, in the alley."

"It's a cold night, but clear. Flying would be wonderful. Usually, when I fly I do so in my other form, so I could guide you," Milo said.

"You're an animagus?" Hermione asked, almost in awe.

"All of the Valdes are. Different clans become different animals. Most of us are birds of prey, like hawks, ospreys, eagles, falcons, owls, or vultures. My clan becomes eagles." He seemed proud of this fact. He said, "Some of the clans that have diluted blood become land animals in their animagus forms, black dogs, deer, but most are birds, because of the Veela background."

Hermione said, "I didn't think you would be so forthcoming in speaking of your background with us."

"Why?" he asked. He took a step closer to her. "I have nothing to hide." Without realizing it, Hermione took a step backwards. Draco noticed this, and he took a carefully, choreographed step to the side, so that his arm was touching hers.

"Violet Edgewater said that members of your community couldn't speak to outsiders about your secrets," Hermione stated.

He smiled and said, "You will find that many things do not apply to me, and besides, I'm not sharing any secrets," he stepped even closer, "yet."

Draco took Hermione's arm and pulled her protectively behind his back. He said, "Fine, birdie, let's go outside before these men wake. Flap your wings, get up in the air, and we'll follow."

Milo smiled and stepped over one of the felled men and said, "I'll apparate to the alley. Would you like to apparate with me, Miss Granger?" He held out his hand, but his gaze was on Draco at first, and he was smiling. Draco recognized that the man was testing both him and Hermione.

Hermione looked at his hand, and swallowed hard. Draco also looked at the man's hand, but he said, "She can apparate on her own, you know. Go on, we'll be right out."

"Fine, I'll go out before you, besides, I'm sure you might have something you want to tell Miss Granger, so I'll see you out there in a moment."

The man disappeared and Hermione whipped around and she said one thing, "Do you have Veela blood?" After all, Hermione Granger wasn't a fool, and she had already suspected as much.

Draco gasped, expelled a breath, and faked a smile, laughed, sputtered, shrugged, shook his head, made a motion with his hand, and then said, "Maybe."

"Now things make sense," she said, throwing her hands up in the air. "How could this be? How did I not know? Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"I have told people. The Ministry still has an antiquated law that says anyone with even an eighth Veela heritage must register as such. My father's grandmother was part Veela, but just part, and it's not a big deal, and I'm not related to these people!" Draco said, pointing toward the outside wall, as if he was pointing to the village of Glendora itself.

"Is that why you came with me? Do you have knowledge of Veela that is beyond what I know?" she asked.

He hesitated for a moment and then answered. "No, I'm sure I don't. I came because perhaps, just perhaps, if they try to use any of their ancient, voodoo Veela magic on you, I'll be oblivious to it, or some such tripe, or at least that's what my superiors think." That wasn't the whole truth, but he wasn't ready for the truth, and he knew in his heart of hearts, neither was she. He didn't want her to think that his recent show of positive feelings, (i.e. lack of rudeness) had anything to do with anything Veela.

"Voodoo Veela magic?" Hermione asked with a smile.

"What would you have me call it?" he asked, smiling back.

"I wouldn't call it ancient voodoo Veela magic," she said, eloquently. "I don't want lies, Draco. If you have more to tell me, I want you to tell me."

"Right here, right now? I only question your timing because I rather think the King of the Valdes is out in an alley waiting for us," Draco said sarcastically.

"Not right here, right now," she came back with. "But if we are to work together, I have to be able to trust you, agreed?"

"Whatever," he said, in a sort of angry pout. "Come on, the King is still waiting."

"Oh, stop pouting! Does it make you feel inferior that he's a king and you're just a prince?" Hermione asked with an ornery gleam in her eye.

Draco smirked and raised his left eyebrow and said, "Listen, Princess, I'm so much more everything than that man, in so many ways, so I hardly think I'm jealous, got that?"

She laughed and said, "Fine, and you really are ruder than him, at least. He seems the perfect gentleman."

She looked around the room and he spun her around suddenly. He turned serious and he said, "Granger, promise me something. Be careful of him. Remember how he made you feel earlier, okay. Just use caution. I know you tend to go in feet first, and you think you're bloody invincible, but be cautious, right?"

"Why, Draco, I might start to think you care," she said, cupping his cheek.

He took a deep breath, and though he wanted to confirm her statement, even though she made it in jest, he said, "You know I don't care. I just don't want Potter to have a bloody cow if you're injured, and the paperwork would be a bother, too."

"Ah, so thoughtful," she said with a grin.

"Do you want to fly, still?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said with a sigh. "But we better get out of here before these men wake up."

He offered her his hand, much as Milo had offered his hand to her only moments ago, but this time she placed her hand complacently into his, and then he took the satchel from her. He apparated them both to the alley, where Milo Dorchester was waiting. Milo handed one broom to Draco and then one to Hermione, but Draco took Hermione's back out of her hand and said, "We'll travel together."

"Draco," Hermione said in a low voice, "the spell we used to charm these brooms won't be very strong, and it might not even last very long, and they don't have seats or anything. It'll be hard enough for you to be on it by yourself. You don't have to do this."

"Is there a problem?" Milo asked, coming forward.

"No problem," Draco said back. He looked around the little alley, and he saw a rubbish can lid. He took the lid and he transfigured it into a seat and he then attached it to the broom with magic. It was large enough for two. "There we go."

"You are taking only one broom, then?" Milo asked.

"I'm not a good flyer," Hermione waned.

"It makes sense," Milo said back.

Hermione pursed her lips and said, "Why, because I'm a woman? My friend Ginny, a woman, is one of the best flyers I know."

Milo laughed a bit and said, "Please, do not be offended, Miss Granger. I only meant that it would make sense that Mr. Malfoy should want to protect you because you are his…"

Draco interrupted before the man could finish, "Can we just go? Those men are probably awake now, and we already ran away from one angry crowd today. Get in the air, Birdie. We'll follow."

Milo said, "I think we should apparate to the edge of the loch, Auror, and leave from there." He said the word, 'Auror' with as much disdain as Draco said the word, 'Birdie'. "That way, we shan't risk being seen, if that's amendable to you both."

"Fine, fine, fine," Draco dismissed.

Milo disappeared, and Draco once again held out his hand. Hermione looked at his hand and said, "What was he trying to say? You interrupted him."

"So, I'm rude, I interrupt people!" Draco hissed as he leaned closer. "Now take my bloody hand."

"I can apparate by myself, remember."

That statement embarrassed him. Of course she could. Of course she didn't need to continue to hold his hand. For some reason, just having that other man near her made him twice as protective of her. He was afraid of something like this. He was also afraid that this other man, or even the other people in the village, would be able to sense his connection to Hermione, and that wouldn't do at all.

He was angry at the whole situation, but he took out his anger on her. "Of course you can apparate yourself! You can do everything yourself! You don't need anyone! Go ahead, apparate, Princess. See if I care." He disapparated away before she did.

She shook her head in wonder, and was about to disapparate, when she heard a sound behind her. She turned quickly. It was two of the men from the bookstore. They were running around the back of the building, down the alley, directly toward her, and one of them had a Muggle gun.

Hermione looked at the gun and said, "Oh, Shite!"

And then there was a loud noise.

* * *

_A/N: Thanks to everyone for their kind, encouraging words, and thanks to those who understood what I meant by the statement about the scratches, as sarahr85 said, "The cuts were more than just scratches, but not deep gashes". I wish I had worded it like that, but that is more or less what I meant, and most of you knew that, which meant most of you were smarter than 'Smarter than you'. Thanks. Be sure to vote on my new story on my author's page. (which means that of course, that I'll stay around here for a while, if you all want me to.)_


	10. Chapter 10 A Mate and a Mistake

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 10: A Mate and a Mistake:**

Draco apparated to the side of the loch to find Milo already there. Milo turned to him and said, "She doesn't know, does she?"

"Know what?" Draco asked, though he knew what the man was asking.

He grinned and said, "You are not that lacking in perception. You know what I mean. I sensed it when I saw you together in the bookstore. I could almost smell it, the connection is so strong. I knew she wasn't mine when I held her hand, so I can only assume she's yours and that's why you're with her. Tell me if I'm wrong."

Draco almost snarled and said, "I really don't have to tell you a thing."

"That confirms that she doesn't know," Milo said triumphantly. "When did you know? Most Valdes males have the first inkling as to who's their mate when they're around 14 to 15 years old. It's sketchy, not a fully realized picture, but when they meet them, they know."

"I'm not Valdes am I?" Draco snapped.

"No, but we are closely related. No matter how diluted your Veela blood, it's still there. I'm just curious. You don't have to tell me anything," Milo said. He looked around and then he said, "Shouldn't Miss Granger have been here by now?"

Draco hadn't even noticed that she wasn't with them, which upset him more than the questions this man had been asking. So much for Dorchester's theory, if he couldn't even tell she wasn't with them! He immediately apparated back to the alley, followed by Milo. The alley was empty, save for the satchel, the abandoned broom, and a small puddle of blood.

Draco inhaled deeply and drew his wand. He closed his eyes and tried to sense her. Milo bent down and inhaled the smell of the blood. He too, closed his eyes. He looked up at Draco and said, "The blood is hers. I've never had her blood, but her smell is distinct."

"Where the hell is she?" Draco began to pace the alleyway. He ran toward the back of the alley, near the back entrance of the store and he discovered a body.

Milo was right behind him. It was obvious that it was the body of a man who had been killed by magic. Draco knelt by the man and turned him around. There was a gun in his hand. Draco stood and kicked the dead man in the ribs. He cursed, swore, and then he hit the side of the brick wall, almost breaking his hand.

Milo said, "Are you finished." The other man was eerily calm. "I will take care of this man's body. I trust you can follow her scent?"

"I'm not a dog. I don't follow scents!" Draco bellowed.

Milo merely raised his eyebrows and said, "Fine, just find her. I'll take care of this cretin, dispose of his body, and search for his friends. I have their scents firmly stored to memory. Meet me back at the loch. If you're not there in an hour, I'll join in the search for her."

"No one has to search for me," said a voice.

Draco rushed toward the backdoor of the bookstore. She sat huddled in the threshold. He fell to his knees in front of her. She was holding her upper left arm with her right hand. "I killed that man, Draco. I'm going to go to prison." She looked as if she wanted to cry.

"Did he hurt you? Are you shot?" Draco cupped her cheek, and then forced her hand away from her arm. Her jacket was crimson with blood. Draco couldn't tell how badly she was injured, however her pallor was almost as pale as his, and her eyes were glazed with tears. He wanted nothing more than to bring her to his arms, and take her away from here, but he couldn't.

Milo came to them and he said, "How badly is she injured?"

Draco shook his head and said, "I can't tell. Hermione, we have to remove your jacket."

She shook her head too, and replied, "No. Just take me to St. Mungo's. The Aurors will want to question me, and I would rather be back in London when they do so."

"Why would Aurors want to question you?" Milo asked sternly.

She looked up at him and said, "I killed a man!"

"I gather it was self-defense, or at least a fair fight, correct?" he replied, matter of fact.

"Yes, but that doesn't matter. The other man saw me. He saw I had a wand! He ran away! After it all happened, I came back in here to see if the third man was still in the store, and he is, but still, the one man is bound to tell someone!" She looked directly at Draco and she said, "I don't want to go to jail. I can't believe I killed someone."

"I can't believe it either," Draco said sincerely. He stood up and pulled her to her feet. She swayed, so he put his arm around her. "I suppose we'll have to abandon this investigation, before it's even started. You'll need to go to Hospital, and I'll need to call my superiors and Potter."

Milo interrupted and said, "No. You must find the murderer of the young girls and of the witch Violet Edgewater. We cannot have this hanging over our village. We are vilified enough, without being thought of as murderers. I want to bring our village into the modern age. I want to bring it respectability. I want so much for my people!"

Hermione had not heard him speak so passionately since she had met the man. She leaned her head on Draco's chest. "I'm sorry I failed you, Mr. Dorchester."

"Mr. Malfoy and I failed you, Miss Granger, but all will be righted. I promise from this point on that you have my protection, and that is not an oath I make to just anyone. Once it is given, it cannot be retracted. I will destroy the body of the man in the alley, and I will locate his friend and kill him as well, and then we can go about our business," he said, once again without passion.

This time Draco was slightly appalled. "You speak of respectability, and of bringing your people into the modern age, but killing people and disposing of their bodies isn't the way to go about that." To Draco, this man's ideology was reminiscent of the mind-set that he grew up with…that of Death Eaters. This man felt the ends justified the means, and it was exactly the way his father always thought. It made him sick.

Draco then said, "I may be a bastard, and according to Granger, a rude one at that, but I have some morals. I won't be a party to this, and I won't let her be a party, either."

"Wait, Draco," Hermione said. "He has a slight point. If we call in the Ministry now, there will be a full investigation, and they'll either go in with a variable army of Aurors to wipe out the Valdes, or they'll forgo the investigation, fire you for dereliction of duty, arrest me, I'll go to trial, and I might lose my job. The most important thing of all is that three women's deaths will be pushed under the rug, and there'll be no one who cares if they're avenged or not."

"Damn," Draco muttered. "You need healed!"

"We have Healers," Milo said. "I suggest we get back to the loch and leave now. The man left in the bookstore, is he secure?"

"He is temporarily stunned," Hermione said.

Draco said, "You took on three men, one with a gun, and you were shot. I'm in awe of you, Princess. Complete and utter awe. You don't need me at all." He smiled as he said it. "Will you let me apparate with you, this time?"

"Where's the satchel? It has all of our things," Hermione inquired.

Milo held it up. He handed it to Draco and said, "I must go wipe the memory of the unconscious man in the store, and then I must locate the other man. I believe I know where to find him. Meet me at the loch."

He started in the doorway and Hermione said, "Don't kill him, or the other man, please. Just wipe their memories. There's been enough killing, okay?"

"I'll abide to your wishes, Miss Granger, for now," he said. He bowed slightly before he disappeared into the dark bookstore, which Hermione found odd but endearing, and Draco found irritating. He placed the satchel over his shoulder, across his chest, and he held her against his body with his arms around her.

They looked in each others eyes. He said, "What a load of trouble you are, Granger."

"You, too," she said. She placed her head on his chest again. It had been a long day.

He said, "You do realize if you had just taken my hand and let me apparate with you to the loch the first time, none of this would have happened, right?"

She had no comeback for that fine retort. He knew she didn't, and even though it wasn't the right moment, he smiled, because he felt rather smug. He apparated them both to the loch, to await Milo Dorchester.

Forty-five minutes later, high in the night sky, following an eagle, Draco held Hermione in front of him on the make-shift, rickety broom. She leaned heavily against him, her eyes closed. He looked down at her arm again. The bleeding had stopped. They had no time to examine her wound, but he was sure it was more than a graze, as she kept insisting.

When they crossed the expanse of water, the trees grew larger, as they flew over a large forest. There were moments when he had trouble keeping the broom aloft, and their feet skimmed the tops of the trees. He felt an overwhelming sense of doom and gloom as they flew over the mass of trees. This place held primordial magic, and Draco didn't like it one bit. The stench of it whirled in his senses, mixing with the desire he felt for her, and for one brief moment he felt off-kilter.

The eagle circled back around them, sensing Draco's immediate confusion. Draco shook his head to clear his mind, wrapped his left arm around her tighter, and pulled up on the broom with his right hand, to clear the trees, which seemed to grow larger and larger still.

He closed his eyes again, and took in the scent of her. She was here in his arms, just as she had been in his mind and his dreams for the past ten years. For ten years, since Draco was fifteen years old, he had known, or felt, that she was to be his, and when he was younger, he hated that thought, because he hated her. He had denied it for so very long that it was hard to admit it now.

Yet, with her here in his arms, settled in front of him, cradled between his thighs, he felt a contentment that he didn't know could exist. It settled over him like a calm in a storm. He was no longer in denial, she felt right in his arms. Would she ever accept it? Would he? He wanted it to be more than 'ancient Voodoo Veela' magic. He wanted to want her for her, and he wanted her to want him for him. He wanted their mutual desire to be natural, and not anything to do with magic. That was what he needed.

"Draco?" she said, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"Yes?" he asked back, in barely a whisper.

"Do you feel it?" she asked. "Do you feel the ancient magic?"

Before he could respond, the eagle, which was barely a speck in the dark sky, dipped low toward an approaching valley. Moonlight bathed a primeval, archaic castle, surrounded by the tall, primal trees. This was it. This was Rhodeana Castle. They were here.

Milo had already landed and assumed his human form. Draco landed as easily as he could. The other man was there, and Draco was forced to pass her to his waiting arms. Milo's strides were long and demanding as he carried her into the massive manor, but Draco remained by his side. Draco could tell this land belonged to this man, and this man belonged to this land. It was in the way the other man walked. It was in the way he carried himself, and it hung in the air like a mist.

Once at the castle's massive double doors, Milo utter a single word, in a language that Draco had never heard before. He said, "Teasairg," and the doors unlocked and opened partially. Milo kicked the doors in with his foot, since Hermione was still in his arms.

A younger man, who looked enough like Milo to be his brother, a beautiful blonde woman, and an older man all came running into the hall. "Get a Healer, now!" he demanded. The pretty blonde woman ran out of the great hall toward the back of the castle at his command.

He started up the stairs, but turned and without grace or proclamation, handed her over to Draco. He said, "Forgive me. She is yours. Follow me."

Draco started up the stairs, Hermione in his arms, and the magic in the air was so tangible he could feel it thrumming through his body, tingling his senses, and for the first time he wondered what they had gotten themselves into, and he also wondered if they would be able to get themselves out of it. He looked back down at her; she was staring at his face. He finally answered the question she asked earlier when they were in the sky. He said, "I feel it, Hermione. I feel it."


	11. Chapter 11 A Moonbeam and a Confession

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 11: A Moonbeam and a Confession: **

Draco paced outside the door to one of the many bedchambers of Rhodeana castle while the Healer saw to Hermione. He felt nervous, hungry, angry, and tired. He knocked on the door, opened it, saw the Healer bending over her on the bed, and when no one asked him to come in or to go away, he walked right in the door.

The Healer proclaimed that the bullet was still lodged in her arm, but it would be easy to remove, and he could heal it quickly. Draco thought, 'Grazed, in deed, Granger.' This time, he paced back and forth at the edge of her bed, until she finally said, "For goodness sakes, Malfoy, you're making me nervous. Go do something constructive."

He frowned, mocked her by saying, "You go do something constructive," and then he walked out of the bedroom and into the hall. They had walked down so many halls, and up so many stairs, Draco wasn't sure if he could find the front doors again if he tried, but even if he did, it was after midnight, so what was he meant to do? This place made Malfoy Manor seem like a cottage. Draco started down the hall when the younger man from earlier approached him. He held out his hand.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked. Draco shook his hand. "My name is Iver Dorchester. I'm Milo's younger brother. I'm so pleased you're here." Draco merely nodded his head. The younger man continued, "The servants made up the room next door for you. Your things are already there. Is Miss Granger going to be okay?"

"Yes, she seems to be. She's back to being bossy, and she's irritating to boot, so I take that as a good sign," Draco said seriously.

The younger man smiled and said, "Oh, good."

"Who were the other two people who were in the hall when we entered?" Draco asked.

"The woman is my fiancée, Catrìona. She prefers to be called Cat. She doesn't like the old Gaelic names that our clan is accustom to using. The man is her father, and our godfather. His name is Aonghas MacNeill. I really hope you'll be able to solve the murders of those young women. I met one of them, when she came to work around here, and she was a sweet girl."

Draco was surprised. "You met one of them?"

"The first girl murdered. The one named Sandra Parrish. She asked permission from my brother to examine the ancient ruins in the enchanted woods, and he gave his consent and his protection. You see, I think that's what upsets him so much, once he gives his protection over someone, its law, and the fact that someone killed her after he offered her protection is something he can't abide."

Draco was intrigued now. "Did your brother try to find out who murdered her?"

"Of course. He used every means we have. He used magic, he used his senses, his sense of smell is legendary, and he used threats as Clan leader, but no clues came, and after six months, he gave up. He actually contacted that professor, to see if he could provide us with help."

"Really?" That was news to Draco. The younger man nodded. "What about the other girl."

"Milo wasn't here when she was killed, but when he came back and found out about it, he could barely contain his anger. It had to be one of us, and the fact that one of us would go against the laws of our leader, and our brethren, is unheard of, and so he decided to seek outside help."

"So you're convinced it wasn't an outsider who did this? The people of the neighboring village seem pretty vindictive and mean," Draco said with a laugh.

"The ones that chased you and shot at your female?" Iver asked with an equal laugh. "Yes, we have bad blood with them that goes back centuries. You should see one of the elders for that story, because I really don't know it. As to the other thing, yes it had to be one of us. The way the girls were killed points toward it. The scratches on the bodies seemed to be made by talons, and beaks, and the blood was drained. Several of the Clans still practice Vampirism, although it's been outlawed for many years."

Draco sighed, but he smiled at the other man. He had been very helpful. "Well, my brother is having a tray brought up for you both, and then he said he would see you in the morning. Goodnight, Mr. Malfoy."

"Call me Draco," he answered.

The Healer walked out in the hall and said, "Is there a Prince Rude out here?"

Iver looked confused, but Draco rolled his eyes. He looked back at Iver and said, "Or you can call me by my other name, Prince Rude." He shook his head, but he smiled, and he walked back into the room.

Draco approached the bed, saw that she was sitting up under the covers with her arm bandage. She appeared to have no shirt on, only her bra, though she held the covers high above her chest. Interesting.

He was about to sit on the side of her bed when there was a knock on the door. Draco turned swiftly to answer the door. It was a servant with a tray of food. Draco took the tray and rested it in the middle of the bed. He climbed beside it.

"Some graze to your arm, huh?" he asked.

She took a piece of bread and some cheese and said, "Yes."

"I've never heard of a graze that still had the bullet inside it," he teased.

"Maybe it was a bit more than a graze, but it wasn't that bad, I've had worse," she said. She took a chalice from the tray, sniffed it, decided it was okay, and then took a large drink. "Oh, wine," she said with a laugh, as she took a drink of the wine.

"You've had worse gunshots?" he asked for clarification. He was amused. He wondered if she was under the influence of pain medicine, if she should have that wine she was drinking so heartily. He took a sip from the other wine glass, before he took a bite of food.

"That's not what I meant." She huddled down in the bed, wine glass in her hand, and she almost toppled the tray in the process.

He raised a brow and asked, "Did the Healer give you anything for pain?"

"A potion, why?"

"You're acting tipsy," he answered. He took her glass of wine from her hand, leaned over her, almost purposely, and placed it on the table at the side of the bed. While he was leaning back toward the middle of the bed, he looked down at her. "Sorry you were shot."

"Sorry you weren't." She giggled. "That's not what I meant."

"Really? I'm sure there are plenty of times in our lives when you wanted nothing more than to shoot me with a Muggle gun," he observed. He took a bite of something brown, made a face, and spit it out on a napkin. "Ugh, what is that?"

She looked at it and said, "I think its haggis." He openly blanched and she giggled again. "I don't know if it's haggis or not. We're in Scotland, so I thought I would guess haggis. It might be something else."

He eyed her for a moment and then said, "You are a bit off, aren't you. Pain medicine and nighttime escapades mixes well for Granger, I'd say."

"Pish-posh," she said. She picked up another piece of the same brown thing, took a large bite, and then made a horrible face. He laughed and held out a napkin for her. Instead of taking the napkin to spit out the food, she took the napkin, spit the bite of brown stuff right out in his hand, and then wiped her mouth with the napkin. He wiped his hand with another napkin. "I think that was haggis," she stated.

"I think you're right," he said with a yawn. They both ate a bit more, in quiet, and then he lay on the pillow beside her. He yawned again. She looked tired as well.

"What time is it, Malfoy?"

"Time for princesses to go to sleep," he said lightly. He removed the tray of food and placed it on a blanket chest at the end of the bed. He asked, "Do you need anything before I go to my room?"

"Oh, are you going?" she asked.

"You didn't think I was to stay here tonight, did you?" he asked, with a sort of strangled smile.

"Tell me about your Veela heritage," she asked.

That didn't really answer his question, but he sat back on her bed. He removed his shoes, and turned on his side, propped his head on his elbow, and asked, "What do you have on under those covers?"

"Undergarments," she answered.

"Undergarments?" he said back and he grinned. "Undergarments," he repeated. "What constitutes undergarments, Granger?"

"Bra, underwear, socks," she said.

He laughed and said, "Let me see your socks."

She held out a leg, pulling back the covers. She had on red argyle socks. "At least you're dressing for the area, with your tartan socks."

"Argyle," she corrected. "Anyway, it's cold. You're avoiding my question. Veela stuff now, Draco Malfoy."

She covered up again, and turned to look at him. He noticed that the fire in the large grated fireplace was crackling low, and that besides an oil lamp on the table by the bed, there was no other light. He felt protected by the dark. He almost felt as if he could reveal some of his secrets if he had the veil of darkness. Not all of them, but some of them. Still, a bit more darkness wouldn't hurt. He stood up, aware that her eyes followed him, and he went to the lamp on the table. He pulled down the wick to extinguish it, before he crossed back over to the bed.

Now the only light was a golden hue from the fireplace, and a silver, bright light that danced from the window, across the bed and the room, from an errant moonbeam. He leaned back on his elbow, and looked down into her questioning eyes. He began his story slowly, leaving out what he must.

"My father's grandmother was part Veela. Her mother was Veela, her father an ordinary wizard, although both were purebloods," he started.

"But of course," she said, with a smile. "I would never think otherwise."

He reached over for her hand, somehow knowing it was on top of the covers, waiting for his. He covered her hand with his. He didn't clasp it, he just covered it. "She was known to be a rare beauty. My father never talked about her much, and I hardly remember her at all. She died when I was only six years old. My grandfather told me that his mother was part Veela on the day that she died, and I didn't know what that meant. I asked my mother, and she told me to ask my father, and he told me that he would tell me someday, and left it at that."

"No," she said. She leaned forward slightly and said, "I believe you should always answer a child's question with the absolute truth."

"Too bad you weren't around when I was six," he joked. "Would you have known what a Veela was when I was six, and you were probably seven?"

"No, but I would have honestly told little Draco that I didn't know, and I would have patted his head, removed his thumb from his mouth, and told him that I would read a book and find out for him," she joked back.

"I didn't suck my thumb," he said sincerely. "Anyway, when I started my primary magical education, we learned a bit about magical creatures, and there was a mention of Veela, only slightly. I went home that day, I think I was ten at the time, I asked my father again what it all meant. I asked him if Great-grandmother was a Veela, and he said yes, and explained everything he could to me at that time."

"Do you have the ability to sprout wings from your back?" she asked.

"Hermione Granger!" he chastised. He sat up in the bed. She sat up as well, forgetting that she didn't have much clothing on. He eyed her bra, and then smirked as he looked her in the face.

She raised the covers to cover her chest, and then argued, "It's a valid question!"

"No, it's not! You've known me most of my life! Have I ever sprouted bloody wings?" he asked.

"Maybe you did in private, like when you were alone in your dorms, or something," she said sheepishly. He couldn't tell if she was joking or not, but he hoped she was.

"I did other things alone in my dorms, like normal boys," he insisted. "May I continue?"

"Do you have the ability to charm people into doing what you want, by merely your pretty face and alluring smile?" she asked.

"Apparently not, because as I said to you before, I've been trying to persuade you to act accordingly since this blasted trip began, and you seem to do all the persuading, missy." Hermione sank back down on the pillows. He looked at her halo of hair as it cascaded around her. She pulled the covers back up to her shoulders. Even her shoulders looked white and inviting by moonlight. He wanted to touch her again. What would she do if he reached for her hand again?

He was about to find out, when she asked the question he had hoped to avoid. "Do you have a mate?" He turned to place his feet on the floor, his back now to her. "Now that's a real question. The other ones weren't, but that's a valid one, a real one."

He didn't look at her. He said, "I don't know if I believe in any such thing."

"Milo's brother's fiancée, Cat, told me that Milo has never met his mate yet, but that he's convinced it's a Muggleborn, hence the reason he goes into the neighboring village so often, and also the reason he wants to open up the village to outsiders," Hermione stated.

Draco looked over his shoulder. "When did you have this illuminating conversation with this girl?"

"When the Healer was fixing me up," she answered.

"I had an equally enlightening conversation with the man's brother," Draco said. He started to tell her all about the things Iver told him, and she relayed what Cat told her. Soon they were both lying on the bed, and again, they were both yawning.

He reached for her hand again, to give it a squeeze, before he sat up. He said, "It's so late. We really should get some sleep. Milo has big plans for us tomorrow, I'm sure." He stood up.

"I've gotten accustom to your sleeping with me," she said. "In the non-biblical fashion, of course. This place is a bit creepy. Could you stay? I'm in a bit of pain, too."

"How will my staying help your pain?" he wondered aloud. His staying would undoubtedly only add to his pain, but he sighed, when he realized that of course he would stay. He took off his slacks, peeled off his shirt, and got under the covers. "Potter would have my head if I told him I was sleeping with you. Perhaps I'll put that in my report, just to see the steam come out of his ears." He turned to look at her again.

"I already put it in mine," she said with a smile. "Draco, you never answered me about your mate. Have you ever had a dream, dreaming of your mate? Cat says that's how it happens. That when a Valdes male is around thirteen to fifteen years old, they have a dream, dreaming of their mate, and then they search for them."

"I'm not a Valdes," he repeated the phrase he said earlier to Milo.

"True, but you are part Veela."

"I'm like one-sixteenth Veela," he remarked. "Please, go to sleep."

"So, no mate dreams for Draco? How sad. Perhaps you would be married and happy by now. Perhaps you would have a bunch of 1/32 Veela children running around," she said. She turned so her back was to him. "Perhaps you would get the cushy desk jobs, instead of being stranded in a Scottish castle here with me." She turned her head back slightly and smiled at him.

He smiled back as she rolled back on her side and shut her eyes and he agreed by saying, "Perhaps." He reached over to touch her hair as it lay on the pillow, just as another moonbeam danced across the bed. He said no more. He merely continued to play with the same strand of hair, certain that she could not feel it. She finally began to breathe evenly, so he knew she had drifted off to sleep. He looked at her bare shoulder. Funny, how one tiny little expanse of skin could fascinate him so much. He reached one finger out to touch it quickly, then just as quickly he drew his finger back.

He moved closer to her under the covers, but not close enough to touch. He whispered, "Perhaps I haven't found my mate, but then again, perhaps I already found her, a long time ago, Granger." He spoke so softly he could barely hear himself. He continued, "Perhaps I found her, but I'm in denial. Perhaps I found her, but I'm not even sure I like her that much. Perhaps I want someone to love me for me, not because of my Veela heritage. Perhaps I want to pick someone to love for myself, not because its fate. Perhaps this person won't even want me. Perhaps I don't want her."

He knew that she was already asleep, before he made this last statement, but he still wanted to make it, just the same. "Perhaps I'll whisper in your ear who it is, but don't tell anyone," he said, still aware that she was sleeping. He leaned closer, looked down at the side of her face as she slept and said, "Perhaps it's you."

He fell back on his pillow, turned to his other side, and let slumber overtake him. She opened her eyes, and stared out into the moonlit room shocked at his confession.

* * *

_A/N: I'm warning people now...my spell and grammar check isn't working because my computer has a virus, so when I sent this chapter to my beta, I told her to check everything extra careful, and then when she sent it back, I double and triple checked it again, so I really hope and pray there are no major mistakes, because I really take advantage of spell-grammar check. If you find something, let me know, but don't call me stupid...okay? Thanks!_


	12. Chapter 12 A Bone and a Splinter

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 12: A Bone and a Splinter:**

She wasn't sure how long she stayed awake, but she once again, she had a terrible night of sleep, which was a seesaw of slumber and wakefulness. She laid thinking about Draco's confession for hours, finally falling asleep and then waking back up again when the early morning was still pitch black. She slipped quietly from the bed, without looking back at him, and she went over to the dresser where one of the servants had placed her belongings. She found a nightgown and slipped it over her body.

She took the top blanket off the bed. As she pulled it off the bed, and off his body, she watched him. He looked so handsome. She had to have imagined that he whispered that she was his mate. He couldn't have meant that. Surely, he didn't even believe in such a thing. She knew she didn't. He knew either she was still awake, and he was joking with her, or she had misunderstood him. She wasn't his mate. She wasn't.

She took the heavy down comforter and dragged it behind her on the floor to a chair in the far corner of the room, by the now dying embers of the fire. She didn't know where her wand was, or she would stoke the flames. She pulled her feet up to the seat of the chair, and wrapped the cover around her. She watched him some more.

Watching him as he slept, in a remote castle in Scotland, in the darkness of the pre-dawn hours she realized she could have imagine that he said the things she thought he said. She could be wrong…he could have said a whole host of things, yet, she knew she wasn't. She knew he said what she thought he said.

Was this the reason he had to come along? Did Harry know about this? Did the Minister of Magic know? Did Milo Dorchester know? Was anyone ever going to tell her? What did it all mean? Did Draco Malfoy, a man who once hated her, suddenly love her? NO! Even if he was under some pretense that she and he were, dare she think it, "mates," (she whispered aloud), did not make it so and certainly did not mean that he loved her. He had always hated her. She knew that.

She thought about how much they hated each other in school. Usually hate was too strong of a word to describe how people really felt for each other, but in their case, it was apropos. Growing up, he was hateful, antagonistic, egotistical, and a bigot toward her. He hated her merely because she was a Muggle-born, and therefore, beneath him.

She thought she was better than him back then, too.

Of course, he had changed, as had they all. However, he didn't really like her did he? Although…that was a nice kiss, in which they had shared. A very nice one. Was he only paying attention to her because he thought she was his Veela mate? Was they why he kissed her?

She was a Muggle-born! She couldn't be his mate! As soon as she had that thought, she recalled what Cat MacNeill had told her. Milo thought his mate was a Muggle-born. Hermione knew both girls that were killed were Muggle-borns. Did that have anything to do with their deaths?

She didn't want to think about the murders right now. She didn't want to think about Draco's confession, either.

The next thing she knew, she lifted her head, and daylight was streaking into her room. The darkness was replaced with light, the night replaced by day, and Draco Malfoy was gone. If he questioned why she was sitting in a chair by the fireplace when he woke up, he didn't question _her_ about it. She was glad. She was going to ignore what she had heard, after all, she wasn't meant to hear it, and she was going to concentrate on the matter at hand, that being, finding the murderer of three women.

She went to the small bathroom, which was down the hallway from her room, showered and dressed, and then somehow she found the dining room.

The only one there was Milo.

"How are you feeling this morning?" he asked as he stood.

Before she answered, she looked around the large room. "Much better, thank you. Do you know where Draco is?"

"He ate over an hour ago. My brother took him to the site of the first girl's encampment. He didn't want to wake you, so I said I would wait for you, and bring you later," he explained. "Whatever you would like to eat, my servants will be happy to prepare it."

"I really would rather get to work," she decided.

He smiled at her and said, "You'll need a warmer jacket than that. It's a rainy, cold morning. Let me get you something." He left the room, only to reappear moments later with a heavy, wool pea jacket.

He held out the coat for her, and she gingerly slipped her injured arm into the first sleeve. "Shall we walk, or apparate?" he asked.

"I take it I won't be able to apparate without you, correct?" she asked.

"Correct."

"Then let's walk. I might need to know the way on my own," she remarked. They started out of the massive castle and down the stone steps. The air was cold, there was fog hanging thick on the ground, and there was a mist in the air. Hermione shivered slightly.

"Were both girls who were murdered Muggle-borns?" she asked. She already knew they were.

"Yes," he answered without hesitation.

"Draco said last night that you didn't get to meet the second girl, because you were away." She said it as a statement, but implied it as a question.

"True, I was away when she arrived, but I had met her. I met her in the village. I met her much the same way I met you, to help her have safe passage to Glendora. Then, once she was across the loch, I had other business to attend. When I came back two days later, she was already murdered," he explained.

He took long strides, and his hands were clasped behind his back. Hermione had to walk briskly to keep up with him. They crossed the land around the castle in no time. "How did the students come to study the ruins of Glendora? I hadn't heard of them myself, until my professor told me of the murders," Hermione said, adding, "and I consider myself very learned."

He didn't answer. Hermione wondered if he had heard her. They continued over hill and dale, over rocky terrain, climbing over fallen trees, until they reached the mouth of the forest. Milo said, "To answer your question from earlier, I asked the old professor to send some students to these woods, to study some of our ancient ruins and old castles. I told you, I want to open our village up to outsiders, and to do so, we need to learn more about our past, to continue to have a future."

"How did other members of the community feel about opening up the village to outsiders?" Hermione asked.

Milo seemed to frown with his whole face. He said, "I wouldn't know, nor do I care. What I say is law." He pointed toward a trail and said, "Go that way, and you'll come upon Mr. Malfoy. Forgive me if I don't take you any further. These woods are enchanted, so take out your wand, and be prepared for anything. If you need me, you merely need to call my name, and I'll be there."

Before he could leave Hermione asked, "Did the fact that you let these girls come to your village have anything to do with the fact that you feel you future mate is a Muggle-born?"

He whipped around so fast Hermione thought she had shocked him. He practically pounced on her, took her good arm in his hand and asked, "Who told you that?"

"Your brother's fiancée," she answered. "Let go of my arm."

He did. "Cat should keep her stories to herself. If you need me, call my name, and I'll come." He stormed off again, this time leaving so fast that she couldn't have stopped him again if she had tried. Her eyes watched as he turned and started back toward the large castle, until he was a speck in the horizon.

Well, that didn't go very well.

She started along the path in the forest, her wand drawn, when she came across the girl's former encampment very quickly. Draco was bent low, examining something on the ground. He spoke before he looked up.

"Good night sleep?"

"It was fair," she answered.

"In a chair?" He turned to look at her. "You know, if you didn't want me in your bed, you shouldn't have asked." He looked angry, too. Great, everyone was angry with her this morning, and she wasn't sure why.

"Why didn't you wait for me this morning?" she asked.

"I wasn't aware I was supposed to wait for you. Are you my keeper? My boss?" He turned back toward whatever he was examining.

In her mind she answered, 'No, I'm just your mate,' but aloud she huffed, "First Milo is angry with me, and now you are." She knelt beside him. She felt the heat from his skin, even though it was a cold morning. Kneeling beside him, she felt her skin prickle at his closeness. Was this the whole 'mate' thing, or was it because she was becoming more and more attracted to him? She didn't know if she should bring up the mate thing. She stood up and said, "I asked Milo if the reason he let these girls come to the village was because he thought one of them might be his future mate."

Draco rose slowly, with something in his hand. "I bet that went over big. What did he say?"

"He didn't say anything, but he didn't seem thrilled with my accusation," Hermione answered. She pointed to his hand, "What's that?"

"A bone," he answered. He tossed it to her. She backed away, and it hit the ground. He bent to pick it up and he held it toward her again. "Not a human bone, Granger. I don't know what sort of bone. This is where both girls set up their camps. Some of their things are even still here." He pointed to what remained of an old rucksack and some cooking utensils.

"Why wouldn't the Ministry have taken all of this in for evidence?" she asked.

"The bodies weren't found here," he said. "They were killed elsewhere. This was just their camp, and maybe they didn't know about it. I don't think Milo was very forthcoming with helpfulness when the Ministry came to call."

"Which makes me wonder why he's so helpful now?" Hermione picked up the rucksack and peered inside. "There are some notes in here that might help us."

"Take that back up to the castle with you, Princess. I'll be along shortly. I want to go up to the runes of the old castle where they were studying. There are writings on the walls there, and I want to see what they say."

Hermione smiled and said, "Ruins on the runes?"

He turned, smiled as well, and said, "Something like that."

"I'd liked to come. It is rather my expertise."

He was afraid of that. This place already made him feel strange…different. It magnified everything tenfold. He had to squash the urge to touch her, to grab her, to hold her, to kiss her. He wanted her in everyway possible, that was why he left without her this morning, and that was why he wanted her to go back up to the castle without him.

When he awoke in the pre-dawn hours, he felt for her beside him, she was gone, and he panicked. He sat up, threw off the covers, and instinct told him to reach for his wand. Then, when he saw that she was just across the room, asleep in a chair, he almost cursed her arse.

Why had she left the bed? For a brief moment, he feared that she had heard him last night, but what he knew of Hermione Granger, he knew that couldn't be true. If she had heard his confession, a million and one questions would be hurling his way this morning, so she was safely asleep last night when he told her she was his mate.

He could scarcely believe he had said the words aloud, even in a whisper. He had never acknowledged it before. Why now? It was because of this bloody place! He stepped closer to her and said, "How is your arm this morning?"

"What's that have to do with me coming along?" she asked.

He stood directly in front of her. "How's your arm?" he asked again.

"Fine, sore, but overall, fine."

"I'd like to see it," he said.

"Now?" she asked, incredulously.

How could he explain it to her, when he couldn't understand it himself? Something possessed him. Something that made him want to protect her even more than before. Something not defined, not definitive, but something tangible all the same. He reached for the collar of the old, grey worn pea coat and said, "This is hideous."

"Milo gave it to me."

Draco frowned. He didn't need Milo to give her anything. "Were you cold?"

"He thought I would be," she answered.

"How did you get up here?" It just dawned on him to ask. He now had both hands on the lapels of the jacket.

"Milo walked me as far as the enchanted woods, and then he told me to follow the path. He's in about as good of a mood today as you are," she said, trying to smile.

Draco did smile. "I'm in a good mood."

"Really? Frowning and ordering people about are traits of a good mood?" she chided.

"They are with me, remember, I'm Prince Rude," he told her. He unbuttoned the first big button of the old coat.

"Draco, what are you doing?" she asked. She put her hands on his to still them.

"I want to check your arm."

"Do you mean to strip me in the forest?" She pushed his hands away. "I guarantee it looked fine when I showered this morning. I couldn't rewrap it, but it looked okay."

She turned, but he pulled on the sleeve of the coat. He pulled the lapels again, and started with the second button. "Draco?"

"Sh," he hushed. He unbuttoned the third and the fourth. She stood by pliant. What was the use? He pushed the heavy wool coat off to the ground. The truth was, it smelled like Milo and he didn't want it on her. He wasn't sure when his sense of smell had become so acute, but that was why he wanted it gone.

Was he going crazy? If he told Hermione that he didn't want her to smell like Milo Dorchester, she would punch him in the nose. He said, "Take off your jacket now, and let me see."

She unbuttoned her jacket, but she still had on a jumper and a t-shirt. Before he could ask, she slipped the heavy jumper over her head. She was so cold, that she shivered again. He looked at the puckered skin, where the bullet had entered. The Healer did a good job of healing her. He put his left hand under her arm, and with the index finger of his right hand, he traced the scarred skin around the mostly healed wound. He closed his eyes. He remembered how badly it looked last night, and how much it bled. He remembered the way her blood smelled.

Then, he had a frightening thought. He wondered what her blood tasted like. He opened his eyes and almost pushed her away. He was breathing heavily and he said, "Get dressed, it's cold out here." He turned and started toward the path that would lead to the old castle. "Keep up if you're coming with me."

She grabbed her clothing, the old rucksack, and ran after him, slipping her clothing on as she followed him. She left the old grey coat on the path below.

"Draco, why are you in such a disagreeable mood this morning?" she asked.

"This is my everyday mood," he said.

She almost couldn't argue with that, except he had shown a gentler side last night, and yesterday evening in the bookstore, when he kissed her. It was a nice kiss. She was slipping her arms in her jacket when she tripped over a tree root that littered the path. She fell down and her hands went out to brace her fall.

She cut one hand on the ragged root. She let out a small yelp, and he turned quickly toward her. "Damn, you're so accident prone!" He made his way back toward her as she was sitting on her bum, on the path.

She was examining her hand.

"Maybe if you hadn't undressed me earlier, and then left before I could get redressed, I wouldn't have fallen," she reasoned.

"You always find a way to blame me," he said seriously.

"Better you than me," she said, just as seriously.

He offered her a hand, and she looked up at him bewildered. She said, "Here's my pickle, Malfoy. If I give you my left hand, my left arm is still sore from being shot, so that won't do. If I give you my right hand, well, it's the one that's injured, plus you might get blood on you. I best get up myself."

Draco took a step back. "You're bleeding?" Why did that fill him with dread? He looked down at her hand. She was bleeding, and there was a large splintered piece of wood sticking out of her hand.

He sighed. Then, without meaning to, he took a large whiff. Her blood smelled intoxicating to him. He had never had an affinity for the smell of blood before, in fact, its coppery smell usually made him a wee bit sick, but her smell was different. His father explained that Veela could distinguish the smell of their mate's blood over all others. He looked down at her and placed his hand over his nose. He backed away.

"Get up Granger," he said, as rude as he could. He turned to walk way.

She stood on her own, and she followed behind him. He kept walking. He could still smell her blood, so rich, so sweet, the very essence of her. Was he some sort of animal? Why would blood make him react this way? The thought made him sick and worried. He stopped and she ran right into his back.

He turned quickly and said, "Let's have a look at your hand."

"No, why do you care all of the sudden?" she asked. "I'll heal it with my wand as soon as we get to where we're going. I'd heal it now, but you're walking so fast, that I don't want to lose you."

"I don't want to lose you, either," he said softly.

She looked up at him, more confused than ever. He gently took her injured right hand from the cradle of her left hand and held it in both of his. He examined it carefully, and as he did so, she examined him carefully. She watched the way his pupils dilated, and the way a thin layer of perspiration formed on the top layer of his lip. She watched the way his jaw clenched and unclenched, and the way his pulse beat in his neck. One lock of his hair had fallen in his eyes, and if he hadn't been holding her hand hostage, she would have reached up and pushed it away.

He was pushing and pulling on the splinter, but she didn't seem to notice. Instead, she noticed his lips, and how full they looked, and how determined the set line of them appeared as he worked on her splinter. His mouth looked angry, as did the rest of his face. He smelled wonderful, a masculine scent, mixed with the smell of the forest around them. He was so close, because he had pulled her up against his body, as he worked closer on the splinter, and she could see each pore in his face, the stubble on his cheek, and a mole that she wasn't sure she had ever seen before, on his chin. She knew he had that mole on his shoulder, but this one, she hadn't seen before.

Suddenly, she was brought back to the reality before her, when pain shot through her hand. He removed the splinter with his wand, but just as suddenly, he placed her palm to his mouth, and to the astonishment of them both, he sucked, and he sucked harder, drawing the blood into his mouth. Her free hand went to his sleeve, and she clutched hard at the material. Each strange little suckle she felt all the way down to her toes and she felt so weak in the knees, she thought her legs might buckle. He sensed this, and he placed one arm around her waist for support, as his other hand held her hand to his mouth.

Instead of being disgusted, she felt something else entirely. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and slightly sexually unhinged. He dropped her hand and gazed down at her, burning a hole into her eyes with his. For the longest time he stared at her. He too seemed shocked at what he had done. She brought her free hand up to cup his face.

Her hand throbbed, and he reached out to hold it again, but neither seemed to know what to do. It was a moment of ultimate embarrassment, and ultimate enlightenment. He dropped her hand, grabbed her shoulders, and bent his head to kiss her. She was willing, and when his mouth was almost upon hers, she said, "Draco, we aren't alone."

Draco lifted his head. There were suddenly at least five birds of prey circling above them. Draco lifted her hand again, the blood flow almost staunched, but he felt he knew why the birds were there, just as much as he knew they were not birds. They were hunters, and Hermione was the prey.

He said, "Are you up for running?" He raised his brows in question, grabbed her hand tighter, and ran with her in tow.

* * *

_A/N: Sorry so late with this chapter. I've been ill and in the hospital, but I'm all better now, but just got out, in time to go on my vacation. I was so worried that my illness would ruin my family's vacation! So, no update for the week that we are gone, but I'll write some while I'm gone, and update when I get back. I had really hoped to have three or four chapters to you all this week, but fate had other plans. Thanks!_


	13. Chapter 13 A Grave and a Threat

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 13: A Grave and A Threat**

Holding Hermione's hand, Draco and Hermione ran through brush and bramble, under limbs, and over stones that littered the path. The sleeve of his jacket caught in a vine once, just as one of the large birds swooped lower. Hermione freed his sleeve with a swish of her wand. He continued to hold her hand and they ran even faster. They traveled deeper into the woods, under the canopy of the tall, ancient trees, far from the well-worn path, hoping to hide from the birds overhead.

However, the birds followed.

Hermione shouted, "What do they want? Are they wizards?"

"They aren't parakeets," Draco spat. He stopped when the path became all but hidden, not knowing which way to go. He looked to his right, and then to his left, to try to find some type of covering. He pointed his wand at the birds, said a curse, but they didn't disperse.

"I can't run any longer," Hermione complained, bending at the waist. He knew she was still recovering from her gunshot wound, so her complaint was a valid one. She was even having trouble breathing. She looked up at the birds and said, "Go away!"

"Right, like that will work," Draco responded with disdain. He covered Hermione's back with his arm and they both ducked their heads at that precise moment, as a large falcon began pushing his way through the limbs and leaves of the tall trees, right toward them. Oddly enough, a very large eagle flew in the mix, just as the large falcon had almost landed upon them. The eagle scared off all of the other birds. Hermione knew at once that it was Milo's animagus form. Draco must have known it too, because he said, "About time he called off the other birds."

Hermione placed her hand on her heart and willed herself to calm down. "How did he know we needed his help?" she asked.

"Maybe he has a crystal ball, or perhaps he was out birdwatching," Draco said sarcastically. "Are you okay?"

Hermione nodded. She wondered about what Milo had told her earlier. He had said that he would protect her if she needed him. She hadn't thought of him outright, but she had thought that they needed help and then the eagle appeared. Draco snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Are you paying attention to me? I asked if you were okay."

"Fine, fine," she said, waving her hand. He took her hand again and looked at it closely. He took out his wand and quickly finished healing the wound from earlier.

He let it go just as quickly, almost as if touching it now was too much for him, even though he held it while they were running. She looked down at her hand and then up toward him, but he was already walking back toward the path.

She ran to catch him and she asked, "What was that back there?"

"A bunch of birds, falcons mostly, perhaps hawks and ravens, but I don't think any vultures. I'm sure they were Valdes. I don't know what made them come down upon us like that," he answered quickly, walking away from her. He wondered if they came because of the smell of Hermione's blood. He wouldn't tell her that was what he thought.

Hermione stopped walking, shocked at his response, because she already knew that they were birds! "No!" she argued. "What did you do to my hand?"

He looked back, irritated, and said, "I healed it. A thank you would suffice." He continued walking. She stayed put. He looked back, saw that she wasn't with him, rolled his eyes, and then yelled out, "Are you coming or are you waiting to be a worm treat for some hungry birdie?"

She stumbled toward him, almost tripping over a rock and then a vine, because she was watching him instead of the path the whole way toward him. She looked incredulously at him and said, "No, I mean earlier! You sucked blood from my hand when I hurt it, after you removed the splinter! You sucked my blood!"

He frowned, and when she got close enough, he put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away slightly, and he even took a step back. "What? No I didn't!" he protested, even as his brain was shouting, "Yes you did!" How could he explain what he had done to her when he couldn't understand the reasons why he did it himself? He was as outraged by his actions as she was, apparently. The only thing he could do was to feign ignorance, and that was all, so that was what he did. "I don't even know what you're talking about; I was merely removing the rest of the splinter with my teeth!"

"And with your tongue, and after it was already removed by your wand?" she accused.

His mouth opened wide, waiting to say something, but nothing came out, so he remained quiet and indignant. He had no excuse for his actions. He felt shame, embarrassment, confusion, remorse, and revulsion, all rolled together. He was horrified. He didn't answer, since he couldn't. He sat down on a large rock and hung his head. He finally said, "I don't know why I did that. I'm so very sorry, but I won't talk about it again, so keep all your little theories and hypotheses to yourself." It was the best he could offer her. He stood back up, without looking at her, and he continued walking until he found the path.

She followed, befuddled and baffled, but she knew he felt the same, so she wouldn't press it right now. She felt there was something strange going on with him, with them, and with this village, and she needed answers, but she wasn't going to get them from him, because he was as mystified as she was. He looked back at her once, but that was the only time. He said, "Keep up," as rudely as he could muster saying those two small words, and when she ran to keep up, he quickened his pace.

After a half an hour of walking, she asked, "Where are we going, anyway?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he stopped walking, and she walked right into his back. He exhaled a puff of air from his nostrils, as if he was upset about something. She placed her hand on his arm, and leaned forward to turn her head upward to look at his face. He pointed his finger at something to the right of them. His hand was shaking. She followed the line of his hand to the place where he was pointing.

Hermione stepped around him and fell to her knees. She stated in a shaky voice, "The earth is unsettled here. There is a mound higher than the rest of the ground, the dirt is darker, and there aren't leaves and twigs on top of it, which you would expect in the forest. It almost looks like…"

Before she could finish her sentence he said, "A grave."

He plopped down on his knees beside her. She pointed toward the mound again and said, "It looks like some of these rocks were placed on top by design, not nature. It's too neat and tidy, and look over there, Draco. Something, an animal perhaps, tried to dig something up. Something white is sticking out of the ground."

He placed his hand on her back, and while still kneeling on the ground, he leaned forward, but just as suddenly, he knew what it was. "Granger, that thing sticking out is some sort of white material. It's identical to the fabric that was covering the other bodies when they were found, remember? They were wrapped in white muslin."

She looked over at him and asked, "Do you think we found another body?"

He nodded, but then said, "We found a grave and a body."

"A grave? A body?" She felt slightly sick and afraid, even though she hadn't needed him to confirm something that she had already suspected. She scrambled to her feet, but he stayed on his knees. He moved over toward the top of the mound and moved aside some of the earth.

Draco said, "It's a crude gave, new I would say, not deep, but a grave nonetheless." His Auror instincts told him that they needed to preserve evidence, even while some baser instinct, some primal instinct, told him to get her the hell out of there. He moved his wand back and forth over the grave, to take an image of the scene and to collect evidence by magic, but then he looked up to see if the birds had returned. He only saw one bird. This one was a vulture, it was on a low tree limb, and it looked as if it was looking right at him.

"Draco, do you think it's another victim?" she asked.

"I don't think it's someone's pile of rubbish," he said flippantly. "It's another murdered girl, and I know if the body looks like the others, we won't be able to tell exactly when she died, since the other bodies were so well preserved, but Hermione, this grave is new, I know it. There are even footprints around it that aren't ours."

He stood back up and put out an arm again, instinctively, to back her away. He looked back up once toward the vulture. With his wand, he removed a portion of the dirt covering the top part of the mound, and when enough dirt was uncovered, they could see clearly that it was a body wrapped in white muslin. Some of the girl's hair was even exposed.

"Merlin," Draco said softly.

"Should we call the Ministry?" she asked.

"I don't know. Maybe not yet. I don't know." Draco knew that they should, but he also knew that Hermione's assessment from last night, that the Ministry would come to this village with an army of Aurors, and perhaps level this place, bring all the villagers in for questioning, or take them all from their homes, would come to pass. They would never know what happened to these girls. They would never get answers. He would never get answers. He might never know what was happening to _him._

Hermione could tell he felt torn, and oddly, she knew why he felt so conflicted. She placed her hand on his arm. He looked down at it and then up to her eyes. He was begging her, beseeching her, with his gaze, but she didn't know what to do for him. She finally asked, "Should we at least tell Milo?"

"Milo?" Draco asked. He took her hand in his, but instead of holding it, he threw it off his arm. "First name basis already? Didn't take you long. It took you twelve years before you started to call me by my first name."

"Listen, this isn't the time for petty jealousies, Draco," she said, adding his name at the end, and emphasizing it by saying it loudly. "What's wrong with you? You're becoming unhinged! Maybe you need to leave this place. Maybe we both do."

"You don't know everything, Granger, even though you think you do," he said. "I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me. If you want to leave, leave. If you want to tell Milo, tell him. You stick to your job, and I'll stick to mine," he spat back. He looked up and the vulture was still staring at him. He pointed his wand at it, but it left before he could curse it.

Hermione hadn't even noticed the other bird. She hissed, "Your job should be to call the Ministry then, because we've found another body! Your job is to protect me, not to go around sucking blood from my hand!"

He was so angry he saw red! He took her shoulders and shook her. "I apologized for that! Nothing like that will happen again!"

"Then prove it to me! Prove you haven't lost all of your faculties. Call Harry! Call the Ministry! There's another murdered girl there, Malfoy! We have to tell someone! We can't cover it up, as someone covered her up with sticks, mud and leaves!"

"What would you have me do, bring the whole Auror department in here? They would tear this place apart. They would put these people in Azkaban, without question! They would treat them no better than they treat giants or goblins! They would treat them as oddities, and examine them, and probe them, and what good would come of it?" He was so exasperated! He was also afraid they would do the same with him. He walked slightly away from her, but turned back to face her and said, "The Aurors would come in here, lock up these people, treat them like freaks, make them register like magical creatures, treat them as less than human, and you said it yourself, in the end, no one will care two snaps who killed three, no, four women!"

She yelled back, "Maybe they are less than humans!" She pointed toward the grave. "Killing women, draining them of their blood, turning into beasts. It's sick, Malfoy! What humans would do this?"

"Humans have done much worse in both magical and Muggle history, Princess Naive, and you know it!" he barked. "Do you think I'm less than human? I sucked your blood!"

She didn't know what to say. She started to give a response several times, but finally she said, "I'm sorry I said that. No, I don't think you're less than human."

"I sucked your blood," he said again softly. He turned away from her. She started toward him, but he turned back, and she stepped away from him, because he yelled, "Why did I do that? It was sick and wrong, but I felt compelled to do it! I wanted to do it, so I did! I'm disgusting! It's this fucking place! It's doing things to me! You need to stay away from me!"

"Maybe it is this place," she said to placate him, but also because she agreed. "We need to at least call Harry. He'll understand."

He scowled and said, "Oh, Harry's virtually a saint, isn't he? He would tell the Ministry in a second flat, and if he found out what I did to his precious pet, he would have my head."

Hermione walked up to him, compassion on her face, but then she hit him upside the head with her cupped hand. He grabbed his ear and said, "Ow, what was that for?"

"I'm not his pet, you prat!" she said back. Then she softened her tone and said, "I really think Harry would help us."

Still rubbing his ear, he said, "Are you afraid of me now, because I know that I'm slightly afraid of you now?"

He was joking, so her response came as a surprise, nevertheless she wanted to be truthful, so she truthfully said, "Yes."

He hadn't expected that answer. He grabbed her arms again and shook her hard as he asked, "Why are you afraid of me? Do you think I'm going barking mad? Do you think I'm bonkers?"

"I don't think you're going mad, but you're here to do a job, and part of that job is to protect me, and can you promise me that you can do that?" She placed her hands on his chest, to back away slightly, although his hold on her arms tightened. She said, "Because right now, Draco, I'm wondering who's going to protect me from you."

Milo Dorchester walked along the path and said, "I will. Let her go, Malfoy. I know you don't understand what's going on with you, and I'll try to explain it to you later, but for now, let Miss Granger go." He said it steadily, but with authority, but would Draco respond?

* * *

_A/N: So here's the deal…I had a lovely vacation, no internet connection or computers at all, and I wrote 8 chapters to this story, all in long hand, and I am painfully typing it all up and sending it in to by beta, so I know it's been a while since an update, over a week, which is scandalous for me, but once I get these chapters back, if you all are good to me, I'll be good back and post them all quickly!!_


	14. Chapter 14 A Clan and a Wrist

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 14: A Clan and a Wrist:**

Draco let go of her shoulders only to move one of his hands down to her wrist. The birds from earlier were once again flying overhead. Draco could see them through the opening in the trees, although he was watching Milo more than he was watching the birds.

"Call off your buzzards, Dorchester," Draco ordered.

Milo held up the grey, wool coat he had given Hermione earlier and said, "I'll call them off when you release her arm and let her walk over to me. You're scaring her."

"No, your flock is scaring her," Draco said.

"Her can talk," Hermione said with disgust. "Why are the birds here, Milo?"

"They smelled your blood, as did I, and they came to investigate. That's all there is to it. One member from each clan came. They could tell it was blood of an outsider, and I could tell it was your blood. I've committed the smell of your blood to memory, from when you were shot. I tracked you as far as your coat, then I saw the birds overhead, and I made them leave the first time, although they had a valid reason for investigating," he defended.

"And now?' Hermione asked. She looked up toward the birds. So did Draco.

"Now they think Malfoy is a threat, so they mean to protect," Milo said, cocking his head to the side, as if it were obvious.

"Protect me?" Hermione asked. "Listen, I didn't mean that, what I said. Draco would never hurt me."

"Oh, I know," Milo responded. "At least, he wouldn't mean to, but at the moment, he can't quite control himself, and it's apparent no one has ever explained his heritage. Nevertheless, the other clan members are here right now to protect me. They seem to feel there will be a fight between Malfoy and myself."

Hermione looked from one man to the other, just as Draco, who had dropped her wrist, drew out his wand. Milo dropped the grey coat and drew out his. Hermione stepped between them and said, "This is stupid! Why would you two fight? There's no need! I'm fine!" She turned toward Milo and said, "You said it yourself, he wouldn't hurt me, so you don't need to protect me."

"I'm afraid it's gone beyond that now," Milo said slowly. "The fight is still over you, but now it's not over your protection, but over something much more, isn't that right, Malfoy?"

Somehow, Draco knew exactly what the other man meant. "Hermione, step behind me." Draco held out his hand.

"No, this is ridiculous. Stop this! Milo, we've found another body!" Hermione started toward Milo, but Draco reached forward and grabbed her wrist again. He yanked her toward him.

"Let go of her wrist, Malfoy," Milo said. "You know you aren't in control at the moment. You've not been taught to control your bloodlust. What if she falls again, scraps her knee, or cuts her cheek on a twig? What will you do? It's for the best. Let her come with me right now." He too held out his hand.

"I don't have bloodlust!" Draco shouted. "I'm not a fucking vampire!"

Everyone was still. Hermione's heart was beating loudly in her ears. Both men were breathing evenly, Draco a bit heavier than Milo. Hermione finally said, "Milo, please, call off the other birds, because they do frighten me. Draco, please, let go of my wrist. We have a job to do. We have to take care of the new body we found."

Milo nodded and with a mere wave of his free hand, the birds flew away. He placed his wand back in his pocket. Draco let go of Hermione's wrist, and placed his wand back in his pocket, however, he did so reluctantly. Hermione pointed toward the overgrowth of trees and said, "Beyond the path is another body. We just found it. The grave looks new."

Milo stood steady, then nodded, and then proceeded to walk toward the grave. Draco and Hermione followed. With reverence, he kneeled by the head of the makeshift grave. He removed some of the wrapping from around her face with his wand. He stood suddenly, sucked in his breath, and said, "Her name was Jennifer Craven. She went missing five years ago, from the village across the loch. I had no idea she ever came to Glendora. She was not a witch as far as I know. She was a nice girl. I talked to her a few times. She always seemed lonely and sad."

"Did you have a relationship with her?" Draco asked.

Milo nodded.

"Then you're a suspect," he accused with a point of his finger.

"Not that type of relationship. She was one of the few people from the other village that wasn't afraid of me. I even told her about our village, and some of our secrets. I knew she wouldn't tell anyone, because she told me her secrets, too. She was from an abusive home. I told her that someday, perhaps she could come and live here, if we ever let Muggles come. We were friends, nothing more."

Draco walked up to him, pointed at his chest and said, "You're still a suspect."

Hermione looked back down at the exposed part of the body, the girls face and hair, and said, "She's been missing for five years? This is a corpse that has been here for five years? This is a new grave, but even putting that aside, this body is as preserved as the others we found. How could she have been killed five years ago?"

"I said she went missing five years ago. I know there was a massive search for her. I even helped," Milo said.

"You did a ruddy bad show of it," Draco complained.

"Malfoy, shut up," Hermione said. She felt sorry for Milo. She could see that he felt genuine sadness seeing this dead girl.

"You shut up and let me do my job," he harked. "For now I say we conceal the body. We must do that for now. I need to examine it some more, and I'll put up wards and protection spells, take some more evidence, and then you can do you little DNA thing later, Granger, and then I guess I'll tell Potter, but only him."

"We can't do that," Hermione complained. "I mean, yes, we should examine everything, and tell Harry, but we can't conceal it. Someone is still missing her…a mother, a father. Draco, you're an Auror. You can't hide a crime."

He approached her carefully and gently he touched her arm. "I'm not hiding the crime, but for now I think its best that we don't tell everyone at the Ministry what we've found and I also think its best that the murderer doesn't know we came upon the body."

"Especially as it looks as if the body was recently moved," Milo agreed. "The killer might have been afraid you would find it where it was previously hidden, and they moved it here, so perhaps we might lay a trap here. See if they come back to this spot."

"I agree," Draco said.

"What? You agree with your main suspect?" Hermione snapped.

"Oh, he's not really suspect, well, maybe he is, but mostly he just irritates the hell out of me," Draco said openly.

"The feeling is mutual," Milo said without emotion.

Draco began to put up protection and concealment charms and wards, which would only admit him or Hermione to the crime scene. He concealed the body back in the grave. While he was working, Hermione stepped closer to Milo.

"How did you know to come here? How did you know I needed you?"

He reached for her cheek. He brushed a single finger down her face and said, "I told I would protect you. I told you all you needed to do was to call for me and I would be there for you."

"I didn't call for you," she pointed out.

"Not with words," he said, "but in your heart." He took her previously injured hand. He looked at it. There was now only a slight, white line. He touched it with his finger. "Don't be scared of Malfoy. He's not accustomed to our ways yet, or to what he's to become, but he wouldn't hurt you. He couldn't. I knew that even when I challenged him a moment before."

Draco stood and watched, and a surge of jealously coursed through him, even though the words the other man stated seemed to be on his behalf. The feeling almost knocked him over, it was so strong. He approached the pair and said, "If your intimate tête-à-tête is over, we have an old castle to look at, and the morning is all but over now. Come on Granger." He took her wrist again. For some reason, he was afraid of touching her hand. He looked at Milo and said, "Fly away, bird; we don't need you here."

Milo smiled, lifted the grey jacket from the path and said, "Do you need this coat, Hermione?"

"No, I'm fine," she answered, even as Draco said, "She doesn't need anything from you."

He dropped it back on the path, which Hermione found strange, and he pointed toward a path and said, "Take that path north, for almost half a kilometer, and then go east, and you'll see my old ancestral castle. That's the place where both girls were studying the runes. There's a chamber in the old dungeons that were used for ceremonies, and there are runes on the walls, and stone carvings on the floors."

"Why don't you live there now?" Hermione asked.

"It was destroyed in a fire when Iver and I were very small. Both our parents were killed. MacNeill was our godfather, so we came to live with him. Rhodeana Castle belonged to my mother's family. Dorchester castle is the one that was destroyed."

"Did Mr. MacNeill and Cat live in Rhodeana Castle before you came to live with them?" Hermione asked. Draco looked bored, but he was actually interested in hearing the answers as well.

"Yes, MacNeill was my mother's second cousin," he said. He leaned forward, and with a smile said, "It's all so incestuous, all this intermarriage, pureblood nonsense, you know?" He laughed when Hermione made a funny face and he said, "They're part of our clan."

Draco began walking, deciding that if Hermione wanted to keep talking to the man, she could. Without realizing it, Hermione and Milo began walking behind Draco, and he continued to answer her questions.

"Tell me about the clans," Hermione asked. She almost stumbled on the path again when she stepped on a wobbly rock, but he reached out to steady her. As he did so, he purposely looked up at Draco at the exact moment that his hand touched her arm. As he expected, Draco had looked back at that exact moment, too. Draco glared hard at the other man, but Milo kept her arm. In fact, he laced her arm through his. Draco fumed, but turned back around. He knew the other man was challenging him somehow.

Milo answered finally by saying, "Legend has it that there was one original Veela and one original Vampire who mated. My clan comes from them. Their names were Andre and Katrina. Our original surname would be unpronounceable to most humans; so many years ago the clan took a more Anglo sounding name, Dorchester."

"Hundreds of years after this first mating, six more Vampires came and mated with six more Veela. Two of these Veela were Katrina's younger sisters. Our clan is the primal clan, their clans became the known as the greater clans, and they rank right below mine. The other four are know as the lesser clans. The law of the greater clans, especially the primal clan, my own, is law."

"Each clan has a leader among it, who sits on the council of elders. Each clan is free to marry from the other clans. The woman becomes part of her husband's clan, so we're all related in some way. There's an ancient law that at least one member of each individual family within each clan has to have at least one pureblood marriage, to keep the clan bloodlines pure, which means for these people, they must marry within their own clan, meaning they can only marry those with no impurities and they cannot seek intermarriage from other clans. For my family, that marriage will be my brother Iver and Catrìona."

"So they've already known from birth that they are mates?" she asked. Draco slowed down to hear the answer to this question. He was curious about the whole 'mate' thing.

Milo smiled and said, "Enough questions for now." Draco wondered why the man was avoiding answering this one question, when he had been so open about everything else.

"Why wouldn't you be the one to have to marry the pureblood from the original bloodline, since you're the leader of the clan?" she persisted.

Draco finally walked over to them and said, "The man said that was enough for now, and besides, we're here."

"And besides," Milo mocked, with a smile, "if we talk anymore right now, the top of Malfoy's head might pop off from jealousy. I promise I'll finish this conversation later. It's already past lunch, so we'll have an early dinner for you both, about six o'clock. Don't be late coming back to the castle. This time of year, it will be full dark by then, and we don't want you out past dark, do we?"

"What happens after dark?" Hermione asked.

He smiled and said, "You really don't want to know." He bowed slightly and said, "Until later, Miss Granger."

"Hermione. Call me Hermione," she urged. She held her hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun, as they were now in an open meadow, beyond the shade and covering of the trees, and the dark, grey clouds from earlier were replaced by white clouds that barely covered a very bright sun.

He took her hand down from her eyes even as he repeated her name. "Hermione." He smiled again. He took a step closer, and his body covered the bright sun from her eyes. She wondered why his initial touch that day in the other village made her feel so odd, and now, it made her feel…dare she say, nice and warm, but not the same as Draco's touch.

"Good thing you took off the coat I gave you. It seems it's getting warmer," he said. He let go of her hand.

"Actually, Draco took it off me," she said with a smile.

"Of course he did," he said back, grinning. "I'll retrieve it later." He placed his hand on her shoulder and let it skim lightly down the arm of her jacket. He took her hand again. "Is your gunshot wound better?"

"Yes," she answered.

"Good."

"Milo?"

"Yes, Hermione?" he asked back, softly, quietly, coming closer.

"You need to let go of my hand so I can go join Draco. He needs me," she said.

He smiled again, looked past her, and saw that Draco had already entered the charred remains of the old, burned out castle. He said, "I'm not so sure how much he needs you, or how important it is that you join him." He laced his fingers through hers. He touched her face with his free hand.

She felt uneasy. Not as she did the other day. She didn't feel ill, nauseated, faint, or flushed, but she didn't feel right. She felt that fundamentally this man had no right to touch her as such. She didn't feel afraid. She didn't feel disgust or anger. She merely felt it was wrong. He was wrong. He wasn't the one who should be touching her. Sensing her thoughts, he said, "When I touched you that day in the village, what did you feel?"

She looked around his body for Draco. She didn't see him. She looked back toward his face, he was so tall she had to crane her neck upwards, and asked, "Truthfully?"

"I only ever want the truth from you, Hermione," he said poignantly.

She said, "I felt faint, lightheaded, and like I was going to throw up."

He threw his head back and laughed. He looked down at her and said, "Do I make you sick now?"

"No, but please, let me go. I need to go to Draco."

"I'm not so sure about that anymore," he said vaguely. "I might have made a mistake with you."

She wrenched her hand from his and ran toward the old depilated castle. She didn't glance back once.


	15. Chapter 15 A Staircase and a Promise

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 15: A Staircase and A Promise:**

Hermione knew that Milo was still watching her as she ran along the open field toward the castle, but she didn't care. She continued to run, not looking back even once. She needed Draco. That was all she could think, was that she needed him. She reached the ruins of the old castle, walked through what would have once been the main doors, into what would have been the great hall, but all that remained were stones and charred beams, and instead of a ceiling, there was now nothing but open, blue sky overhead. She looked at what remained of the once grand, stone staircase, and wondered what this stone edifice once was like, and she wondered how it came to be replaced by a pile of ruined, burned out rubble.

She looked around and called for Draco. He appeared from around a corner. "Finished holding hands with Milo?" he asked, rolling his eyes.

"I wasn't really holding his hand," she complained.

"It seemed as if you were having a nice little handholding session with the man."

"No, it wasn't that nice," she said contritely. "In fact, do me a favour. Don't leave me alone with him again, okay?" She said it so softly, but with such conviction, that he frowned and approached her.

"Did he hurt you?"

"Not really," she said vaguely.

"Not really?" he said back. "What did he say that caused you so much alarm? Did you feel sick or faint again?"

She looked as if she was about to say something important to him, but instead she pleaded, "Please, just promise me."

He needed to know what the man had said to her, but she seemed adamant that she wasn't going to tell him, at least not right now, so Draco said, "I'm your bloody bodyguard, right? I'm here to protect you from everything, including him, so I'll protect you from him." He would protect her with his life if it came to that.

"Do you really think he's a suspect?" she asked.

He started down a corridor, but stopped. He turned back and said, "No, I don't. I saw his expression. He looked shocked when he saw that girl's body. I wonder if there are more bodies out there."

"I hope not," she said honestly.

"So do I," he answered. He slowly reached out for her, again taking her wrist instead of her hand. That seemed important to Hermione, but she let it pass. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and held it lightly as they walked. He said, "I think the girls were murdered here, at this castle."

"The bodies weren't found here though, right?" she asked.

He continued to lead her down a corridor, until they found some stone steps that led downwards. He lit his wand, and then he lit several sconces that were on the walls. He said, "No, they were both found in similar graves as the new grave, in the woods, half buried, but they weren't murdered there, we're sure, because not enough evidence was found. They were studying the castle, so I wonder if they were killed here."

They entered another tunnel, which afforded them no light since this one was underground. The fire that destroyed this once stately castle apparently didn't touch this level, but still there were several fallen beams overhead. Draco ducked a few times, and once he even reached over and placed his hand on her head, to help her to duck under a fallen beam.

She lit her wand as they climbed lower still, down more steps. He said, "Dungeons, I suppose."

She didn't respond, for no response was necessary, since it was apparent that they were, in fact, in dungeons. After a few more twists and turns she said, "Do you still have the rucksack with Sandra's journal?"

"Yes," he answered.

"I read that they were studying the runes in the dungeons," Hermione said.

"Hence why I'm leading you there," Draco said sarcastically.

"I'm sorry to rehash things you already know," she snipped back. "Sometimes I don't know what you know and what you don't know, and you don't seem to keep me very well informed."

He snapped back, "Why should I, when you seem to know everything."

She stopped and pulled her wrist from his hand. "Why are you being boorish and mean again?"

He almost whined, "What do you want from me? Hand holding and storytelling, like Milo?"

"Just give me a few answers," she quipped.

"You know as much about the case as I do," he offered.

"I'm not referring to that. What were you thinking when you smelled my blood? What were you feeling when Milo took my hand? Did you feel anything? Did you care?"

Why did she want to go back to that? "Can we get to work?" he asked. He turned to go.

"Please, answer my questions," she implored.

"I don't have any answers, and that's the truth," he shouted. "Listen, for the remainder, let's not get personal with each other, okay? We'll work together, but my thoughts and feelings are my thoughts and feelings. Don't go out of your way to touch me, or talk to me, and don't ask questions I can't answer. Let's solve these murders and get the hell out of here."

He walked down the hall toward two large, double, wooden doors. He lit torches that were in holders by each side of the doors. He started to open the doors, but he was aware that she was no longer behind him. He turned, cast his wand light back down the corridor, and he saw her retreating figure going back down the hallway, toward the steps that would lead out of the dungeons.

He ran after her. When she was on the middle of the stairs, and he was at the bottom step, he said, "Please, Granger, can't we forget everything else but the case at hand?"

She turned to him and asked with an even voice, "Do you want me to forget the kiss that we shared in the bookstore, because I don't want to forget it. It was one of the nicest kisses I've ever had."

He shut his eyes, as if in pain. His thoughts went fleetingly to that kiss. He too thought it was one of the nicest kisses he had ever had. Immobile, and with hardly any sound, he said, "Forget the kiss. It shouldn't have happened, and it was a mistake."

"Do you want me to forget the fact that you tasted my blood?" she asked carefully, avoiding the word 'suck', and adding, "And that it didn't disgust me, it only shocked me."

He closed his eyes a second time. He opened them slowly and said, "I want us both to forget that. That was something borne from the dark magic of those woods and nothing more." He said that to her even as his brain shouted…'LIAR! You wanted to suck her blood! You wanted to taste it and you want to do it again!' It was that last thought that scared him the most. He did have to protect her from himself, because he did want to do it again. The realization of that thought made him sick and sad, and he couldn't ask her to understand it, if he didn't understand it.

He closed his eyes a third time. He wanted all the unpleasant thoughts and feelings to go away. His mind was still wandering, his feelings dark and full of flashes of dread and fear. He wasn't aware that she had climbed down the last few steps and was now right in front of him. "Should I forget that last night you whispered to me that I was your mate?" she asked.

His eyes flew open at that question and he stared right into her face. He dropped his wand from the shock of it, the sound of the wood hitting the stone steps and then the ground, as it made its trek to the bottom, rivaled the sound of his own heart beating right out of his chest. He said, "I never." That was all he could say.

In response she said, "You did. I heard you. I wasn't asleep, and what's more, I believe you, with every fiber of my body, I believe it to be true. When Milo touched me, all I could think was that it was wrong, and that the only person who should touch me is you. I can't ignore it, even if you want me to, even if you tell me to forget it, I can't do that, Malfoy, no more than I can ignore the way I'm beginning to feel for you." She reached for his face, but he was quicker. He trapped her wrist in his hand, and pulled it down to her side.

Then he closed his eyes a final time. Everything about her intoxicated him, her scent, her hair, her eyes, and her voice. She was a siren, and he had to answer her call. Everything about her made him want her, drew him to her, and made him mad with want, jealousy, and protectiveness. He drew her toward him and when he opened his eyes, their faces were almost touching. His nose skimmed her face, her jaw line. He said in her ear, "You have to ignore those feelings. You have to forget I said that. Please. I'm not strong enough to ignore it, so you have to be the strong one. Be strong for me, Hermione, just until this is over."

Each word spoken was like a small kiss to her earlobe. She shivered. How could he expect her to forget it, to ignore it, when a whisper in her ear made her feel like jelly at his feet?

"I'm your mate, you said it, and you meant it, I know you did. I know you do," she argued. She removed her wrist from his hand, but then in a bold move, she grabbed his hand and held it in hers, their palms touching, and their fingers entwined. "Hold my hand, Draco. I feel it, too. I won't ignore it. I can't."

He wanted to hold her hand and never let go. He wanted to kiss her. He breathed in her aroma. His breath fanned across her cheek and skimmed her ear, and moved her hair. His other hand went to her shoulder, and he played lightly with the material of her jacket before he let his hand clasp her shoulder hard. He still wanted to kiss her. Instead, he said, "Until this is over, it's safer if you forget all of these things. Keep your distance, because I don't have the strength to keep mine, and I'm afraid of what I might do to you."

She leaned forward, kissed his cheek, her lips lingering for a mere moment, but long enough to cause him a sensation of utter ecstasy, because he let out a little moan when her lips touched his cheek, warm, moist and sweet. "You won't hurt me, and you're strong, Draco. I know you are," she whispered back.

His insides felt twisted and torn. He was sure that her trust in him was misplaced. He let go of her hand, and her jacket sleeve, and pushed her slightly away, even as he moved one step down to stand on the floor. He bent down to pick up his wand and said, "I might not be as strong as you think, Hermione, and I might not be able to stop myself. Please, be strong for us both, and stay away from me physically, and forget everything that's happened between us." He hurried back toward the double doors.

She sat down on the steps to think. She saw that he had dropped the rucksack. She lifted it, climbed the stairs, and decided to leave him be. If that was what he wanted, so be it.

She would let Draco go his way, and she would go hers. She saw no reason to join him in the dungeons. He wanted her as much as she wanted him, but perhaps he wasn't strong enough to protect her from his burgeoning feelings and emotions, and from whatever was happening here at Glendora, and since she didn't understand what was happening any better than he did, maybe she did have to be the strong one and stay away from him. He seemed to be afraid of what he was becoming, and of what he was beginning to feel for her. On the other hand, maybe he was just afraid to admit it all, finally.

Far from the stone stairs, Hermione Granger traveled down twisted, burned out hallways, through unnatural tunnels from fallen beams and stones, through a labyrinth of corridors, throughout a castle that at one time must have been magnificent and beautiful. She finally found a small alcove, which remained mostly intact, so she sat down on the circular, wooden bench within, opened the rucksack, and began to read Sandra's journal.

She lit a lantern she had found on the floor and propped it on the seat next to her. She would read the journal at leisure later, and compare it to the book of folktales, but for now, she leafed through the pages to see if she could find any mention of the dungeons and tunnels. She wanted to know what the girls had found down there, and if they could have been killed because of something that they had found in this castle, or if it was for something completely different. Maybe there was no rationale reason why they were killed. Nothing about this placed seemed rationale.

Reading the first few passages, she read something about a hot spring to the west of the castle ruins. She had no idea that there were hot springs in this part of Scotland. She made a mental note to examine those springs later. Fanning the pages of the handwritten journal in front of her, she saw crude drawings of runes, notes and passages on the side, and then she saw something interesting. She saw the name, "Milo" written to the side. It was underlined three times.

She stuffed the journal back in the rucksack, threw the rucksack over her shoulder, extinguished the flame of the lantern, and picked up her wand before she lit it. She needed to find Draco. She was acting childish. She was here to help translate the runes, to study the magical DNA, and to help solve the murders, and instead she was running away. She had never run away from anything in her life, and she wasn't about to start now. Draco needed her; well at least she knew that she needed him.

Finding the opening to the dungeons again, she walked down the stairs, but she didn't get far. He was sitting on the bottom step. She walked down slowly, dragging her feet, because she didn't know what to say to him once she reached the bottom, and she was tired of fighting. She was tired of fighting with him, and for him. When she reached the bottom step, she sat down. He looked over at her, his eyes bright. He reached over and his hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing her mouth. He said, "I've been waiting for you."

Never was there a truer statement. He had been waiting for her for most of his life.

Draco waited for her this time because he knew she would be back, even though he tried with all his might to drive her away. When she first started back down the stairs, he held his breath. She sat beside him; he cupped her cheek with his hand, his thumb rubbed the corner of her mouth, and then he said what he had been waiting to say, which was that he had been waiting for her.

What happened next he didn't even think about, he just did it. He leaned over and kissed the other side of her mouth, not fully on the lips. He took her hand, which rested in her lap. The same hand he had healed, the same hand from which he tasted her blood. The same hand he had been afraid to hold all day. The wound was almost gone. He brought the hand to his mouth, and kissed it squarely on the palm. He kissed between each finger, splaying out her fingers in his hand as they came to his mouth, placing his tongue lightly between each finger before kissing between each one. He turned her hand over, and kissed the top. He had control. He would never hurt her.

This time Hermione closed her eyes.

However, what happened earlier should have been a warning to him. It caused him panic, as it should have, but he didn't want her to forget everything that had occurred thus far, because he didn't want to forget it. Her hand was still in his, still at his lips, though he was no longer kissing it. He turned to look at her face. She was trembling…from the cold? From fear? From want? From what? Her eyes were closed. "Open your eyes, Hermione," he requested.

He looked into her eyes and he only saw trust and warmth. She trusted him. Even if he was uncertain if he would hurt her again, she wasn't. That calmed him more than she could ever know. He placed their joined hands in his lap, and leaned forward and touched his lips to hers again. The first touch was almost painful. It was full of ache, want, and anguish. He tried to be gentle. He tried to go slow. He succeeded. He felt washed of his earlier sins. He could control himself with her. He could.

He kept his hands around hers, but moved his face closer, and she shifted slightly on the step, so that they faced each other a bit more. The kiss continued, and his lips floated across hers, tasting her, wanting her, wishing for this never to end. He dropped her hands, placed one of his on her face, kissed across her cheek and said, "This is difficult for me. I want to do so much. I want you more than words can express. I don't want to hurt you." He placed his forehead on hers. It was a good start. It was a place to begin.

He drew back and stared down into her warm, brown eyes. This time, she removed his hand from her face and held his wrist. She merely nodded. It was enough for now. She stood and led them both back to the dungeon, back to the double, wooden doors.

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_A/N: For some reason this was a difficult chapter to write, because I wanted to convey Draco's anguish and emotions and fears, without making it seem as if he was pushing her away. I hope I succeeded. Thanks!_


	16. Chapter 16 A Room and An Obsession

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 16: A Room and an Obsession:**

Draco and Hermione entered a large underground cavity through an arched doorway, only to find themselves in a circular room. Draco immediately brought one of the lit torches beside the doors into the room with them. He held it aloft and all he could think was that this room, for want of a better word, was 'creepy'. There were more torches in iron brackets around the room. Draco lit the first one, and miraculously, the others lit simultaneously. He raised his brows at Hermione in surprise, and stepped out of the room to place the first torch back in its home.

"I don't like it in here. It's creepy," Draco said as he stepped back into the room.

Unlike Draco's assessment, that this room was 'creepy', something about this room embraced Hermione. Something about this room tempted her, persuaded her, and called to her, and if asked to explain why, she would be hard pressed to do so. She walked up to one of the walls and touched the smooth marble. An etched carving was under her fingertips. "For what do you suppose the purpose of this room was?"

"For torture and mayhem?" Draco asked back as a joke. His back to her, he too was examining the walls. He almost tripped over a stone altar on the floor. He reiterated, "I really don't like it here."

"I think the girls might have been murdered here," she said more to the point.

"I concur," he agreed.

"Concur?" she asked. She flipped around to look at him.

"It's a valid word," he said back. Then he smiled. She smiled back.

"I know it's a word, it just sounds funny coming from you. I'm Draco Malfoy, and I concur with you," she mocked, lowering her voice a fraction. "I know from the crime scene photographs that the girls were found in the forest, but I concur, too, Malfoy, they were murdered here. I really feel it down in my bones." She turned back toward the wall to look at the writings and runes.

He was directly behind her, and as a joke to scare her, he reached up with one finger and touched her cheek. She screamed, turned around, and slapped his arm hard. He laughed. "Oh, to see your sweet face. You almost jumped out of your skin. That'll teach you to make fun of my choice of words."

"Make fun of this word," she leveled, saying, "Arsehole." She stepped around the room, her wand in front of her and she said, "Do you know anything about the case that I don't know, because if you do, now would be a good time to tell me."

"Heaven forbid that an Auror should know more about a murder investigation than a, what are you again?" He stooped down to examine two small stones that were joined in an odd manner on the floor.

"I'm a scholar," she said.

He looked up at her, cocked an eyebrow and laughed. "You made fun of me for saying the word 'concur' and then you've got the audacity to use a word like, 'scholar'? I'm Hermione Granger, and I'm the world's smartest scholar," he said, hiking his voice high. He stood up. "Do you make much money scholaring, Granger? Is there much need for scholars these days? How long does it take one to become a scholar?"

She threw her hands up in the air and said, "I thought our kiss on the stairs was our own little way of making up, but apparently not because you're being a git again."

"I'm always a git, my dear scholar," he said, deadpan. He pointed toward one of the walls and said, "Get to work deciphering the runes on these walls, scholar dear, and I'll be right back. I have a feeling there's something more to these dungeons than just this chamber."

"Are you psychic now, as well as a rude git?" she asked, pulling out a clean piece of parchment from the rucksack and sitting down on the floor.

He stood above her, tapped her on the head, to which she looked up at him as he said, "Maybe I am. Really, get to work; this is why I brought you. Do some scholaring."

She sighed and asked, "Are you ever going to let me live that down? I am a scholar, you know. It's a valid word, too. Maybe I should have said educator, instead. You know that I work for the University, and that I'm a consultant for the Ministry and an expert at Magical DNA, but that would have been rather a lot to say, don't you think?"

"See, Granger," he said, leaving the room, "when you rattle on like that, all your words jumble together and they go in one ear and out the other, and I swear, I don't even know what you're saying. Don't leave this room, and scream bloody murder if you need me." He laughed, she stuck out her tongue, but after he left, he put up a ward on the door, so that only he or she could enter or exit.

Hermione took her wand, lit it again, and propped it into one of the stones on the floor, for more light. She took out a Muggle pen, and began to copy all the runes and symbols from the walls. After she had copied all the symbols on the walls, she began to copy the rock formations on the floors. After almost two hours, her work, as far as copying the patterns and runes in the room, was complete. She was tired, hungry, and the silence was a bit unnerving, so she put everything back in the rucksack, and decided to find Draco. She walked out of the room and extinguished all the lights. She grabbed the last torch before it went out, to use it to guide her way back up the stairs.

She walked all the way up the stairs and out the doors of the old ruins before she found Draco by the original castle's outside walls, leaning against an urn, smoking a cigarette.

"Working hard?" she accused.

"Are you finished?" he asked back. He flicked his cigarette against the wall of the building. He said, "I've been examining the fire pattern of this old building. Pretty odd that something made up almost entirely of stone, granite and marble would burn so severely, don't you agree?"

"I hadn't given it one thought, but now that you've mentioned it, yes, I find that odd." She smashed her foot on his still lit cigarette as it lay on the ground. "We don't want to start another fire, do we?"

"Goodie-two shoes," he snorted.

"Git," she pressed.

"Princess," he smiled.

"Prince Rude," she snorted.

"Scholar," he joked.

"Whatever. Did you do anything else while I was working hard?" she asked.

"I may have found some more evidence." He held up a small, ivory handle fountain pen, quite old, and a woman's hairclip.

She looked at the fountain pen and said, "These types of pens weren't used in this last century. I doubt it belonged to one of the murdered girls, but so what?"

"This is a magical community, very old fashioned. They use quills here, Granger. How about the hairpin?" He handed her the hairclip.

"That's definitely from this century, this decade even, and very Muggle. It may have some DNA on it." She wrapped it in a tissue and placed both items in the rucksack. She stretched and yawned. He watched her intently as she did. Her shirt and jacket rode up, he could see bare skin at her waist, and it captured his attention. The other thing that captured his attention was the way her breasts jutted out when she stretched and arched her back. He swallowed hard.

She said, "We have to get back before six, because it will be dark by then, remember, and it's after four now. It took Milo and me almost an hour to walk to the edge of the forest today and another hour for us all to get here, so we had better get moving."

"If princess is tired and hungry, we had better do just that," he said softly. He walked up to her as she stretched again. His hand went to her waist, at the soft expanse of skin that was exposed when her jacket rode upwards from her stretch. She placed her hands on his forearms. He stared at her for a long time, and she was sure that he was about to kiss her, but instead, after a few awkward moments, he moved away, letting his hand slipped slowly from her waist before he moved away quickly.

He moved away so quickly because a terrible thought flashed through Draco's mind when he touched Hermione's bare skin. It was the second terrible thought he had had that afternoon, so he moved from her before he could act on what he wanted to do, which was to kiss her again, plus more. He thought he best not press his luck. He said, "Can you get back by yourself? I want to go into the village, and find out about Jennifer Cravens."

"Yes, I believe I know the way, but do you want me to go with you?" she asked.

He raised his brows, handed her the rucksack, which she had dropped when she had stretched, and said, "Don't you think your face is a bit recognizable to those villagers, Granger? I wouldn't doubt that they have a wanted poster up with your face on it by now. They probably have a stake erected with a match at the ready in case you show your face again."

"Ha!" she expelled, though she didn't find it funny. He turned to walk toward the woods, but she remained behind. He had walked into the trees, and looked back once, before he had noticed that she was still in the courtyard of the old castle.

He waited for her, and she finally joined him. "Do be careful," she urged.

"Merlin, Granger, I'm an Auror! I can take care of myself. You take care of yourself. That's all that matters to me. Never worry about me. Get back to the Milo and the other castle."

He started north again, but saw that once again, she merely stood at the mouth of the path. "What now?" he practically screamed.

"You didn't say goodbye," she said.

"Oh my stars, just because I kissed you earlier does not mean that I owe you a goodbye when I walk away from you! This is still a professional relationship first, Hermione. It has to be! I'm trying to be civil," he moaned. In truth, he was trying not to act upon his dark desires.

"Civil? That word is as stupid as 'concur'. I concur that you're being civil and a world's first class, pompous git, so bollocks for civil, Malfoy!" she shouted.

He almost wanted to laugh at her, because she was being funny, but instead, he frowned. "I don't even know if I can be civil or not, if you're going to be a whiny little clingy female, but civil is about the best you'll get from me right now. Go back to the castle!"

"You're all for ordering people around!" she complained. She started up the path, ranting to herself. "Shut your car door, shut your mouth, go to bed, don't leave the room, decipher the runes, go do this, go do that, go to the castle. I don't think you know what you want, and I for one am tired of it. If you can be normal next time we talk, then good, if not, leave me completely alone and stop trying to confuse me, and stop leading me on, because that's uncalled for, Malfoy."

He watched until she was out of sight. The truth was, after he had examined the upstairs of the burned-out castle earlier, he had gone back to the dungeons and had started back into the room while she was working, and he felt an overwhelming desire to take her in the most primitive way. His mind actually imagined extinguishing all of the lights, leaving her in pitch-blackness, then he imagined ripping off her clothes, throwing her on the floor, taking her in the brutally, and then the sickest part was that he imagined tasting her blood again. He even imagined her screaming and fighting against him, and he liked that.

He backed out of the room, and the thoughts that he had imagined tore his heart to shreds. His insides burned with desire for causing her pain one moment, and the desire to protect and cherish her the next. He still didn't know what was going on inside him, and just because he kissed her earlier, and he was able to stop, (even though he didn't want to) didn't mean that he wouldn't act on his obsession.

THAT was why he felt the need to leave that room earlier. THAT was why he was once again putting her at arm's length because just now he had another dark thought when he touched the bare skin of her waist, and THAT was why he wanted her to go back to the castle by herself. He didn't trust himself with her.

He wanted to go back to the village, where he would find out about the missing girl, but he also needed to talk with Harry Potter. He needed to tell someone what was going on, and it might as well be St. Potter, because at least Harry understood dark thoughts and obsessions, because the Dark Lord once possessed him.

When he watched her run away from him, all hurt and confused, Draco realized that in his attempt NOT to hurt her, he might have hurt her even more.

This, in the end, hurt him the most.

Draco walked through the forest, toward the loch, and he realized that his and Hermione's emotions and thoughts were already bound tightly together, and it was almost too late to stop it. He felt her anguish. He felt her confusion, and he even felt that she was slightly afraid to go through the forest all alone. He should go after her.

He could feel that she was still close. She had taken another path, and was headed in a slightly altered direction than him, but she was close. He backtracked back toward the path that she was on, to find her. He had to prove to them both that he was in control of his emotions and actions. Dark magic would never control him again. He had been an unwilling party to dark magic one time before, when he was a teenager, and forced to take the Dark Mark, but never again. He would never let the will of others, or the influence of dark magic, control him. He controlled his own fate.

He was soon walking parallel with her. Hermione looked over toward him, huffed in anger, crossed her arms, and said a single word. "Civil."

He laughed. He jaunted over to the path, directly in front of her. He said, "We'll go back to the other village together tomorrow, okay? You can wear a disguise. Maybe a mask or something, so you won't be recognized, and the villagers won't be tempted to burn you at the stake."

She stopped walking. "Are you doing this back and forth shite again? Civil one moment, tender the next, a git the moment after that?"

"That's not back and forth. That's back and forth and back again, but no, I'm done with civil, I'm never tender, and I already told you, as much as it pains me to admit it, I'm always a git." He held out his hand to her. A simple gesture, which spoke volumes to them both, and which she understood meant everything to him. She walked up to him and placed her hand in his. It was exactly what he needed. Another dark thought began to possess him, but he held her hand tighter, and it slipped away. They walked hand-in-hand down the path.

They reached the middle of the forest, near the new, shallow grave in record time. The trees and shrubbery that littered the forest floor did not hinder them, not because they were carefully watching where they were going, but because they weren't. They were merely walking with hands clasped, no words between them, eyes in front, with the sky above them growing a deeper, darker, indigo blue, through the awning of trees.

Finally, when they reached the edge of the forest, and Milo's castle was in sight, he dropped her hand. In the early autumn, the sky was a mixture of dark and light, some called it twilight, some called it dusk or sundown, but it was the perfect time for him to tell her what was on his mind.

Without touching her, he turned to face her and said, "I don't know if what I feel for you is real, or if it is part of the magic of this place."

"I hope it's real," she said. "I don't know if what I feel is real, either."

"I want it to be real," he stated.

"So do I," she said, "I mean, I concur." She smiled and so did he. "Will you tell me when you first realized I might be your mate?" She was embarrassed to a certain point, asking this question of him, but she needed to know.

"I'll tell you, soon, I will, not now," he said in a rush. The next moment, he was upon her without her knowing it. He had his arms around her, and his mouth was at her ear, the same as earlier. He said, "I never want to hurt you. It would kill me to hurt you." His words were even, but breathy, each syllable of each word touched her cheek with a single puff of air. Her hands were on his chest and she placed her cheek next to her hands, on his shoulder.

"You won't hurt me," she promised.

"I'm afraid," he began, "of what's happening here, and I'm afraid of hurting you, because I think I want to hurt you. I'm having thoughts of hurting you, even though I know I never will. That's just how it is. It's what I feel. I don't want to feel it, but I do. I'll try hard not to hurt you, though. I want you to trust me. I want to trust me." He wasn't saying it right, and he knew she wouldn't understand. He stroked her hair with one hand and admitted, "I'm having weird thoughts, compulsions, obsessions," he began to whisper softer, "I mean, I sucked your blood earlier, and I think if I could do it again, I would. I want to, you know, and I know its sick, but I do."

She tried to lift her head to look at him, but he held her tighter. He couldn't look in her eyes as he said these things. "I feel like I did when I was back in school, and the Dark Lord and my father and aunt forced me to do terrible things that I didn't want to do, the only difference is, I want to do these things this time. I'm not sure if I'm in complete control. Please, help me not to hurt you. I need your help."

His pleas tore at her heart, and even scared her to a certain degree. He was so close, so close that she wanted to kiss him, but she actually did fear him now, she didn't want to, but she did. She would be strong for them both, and help him to control his dark obsessions, and she would even keep her distance, even if that meant they could only be 'civil' for now.

She pushed against his chest, moved from his arms and said, "Go to the village right now, by yourself, as you planned. Eat some fish and chips at the diner. I'll make your apologies to Milo, and I'll see you later tonight, but know this, Malfoy, I do trust you."

That wasn't what he expected to hear, but he was grateful, nonetheless. He smiled, waved, and ran across the open field, happy for the reprieve. She started toward Rhodeana castle, all alone. When she was almost to the castle, she stopped on a low fence, and took out the journal. She read some of what Sandra had written about the runes in the room. Sandra's impressions were that they were magical, as well as ancient Gaelic symbols. Hermione knew close to nothing about Gaelic symbols. There were several symbols however that Hermione had seen before. She had seen them in the room, and in the crime scene photographs. She opened her notes to look at the runes, but they meant nothing at all to her.

"So much for being a scholar," she said to herself. She slipped off the fence, sat in front of it, and though the sky was now mostly dark, she began to compare Sandra's notes to her own. She lit her wand, and was so engrossed in her work that she wasn't aware of the passing of time, and she didn't hear footstep as someone approach. She didn't even see a man as he stood over her, blocking the moonlight from the page.

However, she did finally hear him clear his throat. She looked up, and gasped.

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_A/N: The next chapter is back from my beta, too, so I'll post it possibly on Sunday. Thanks!_


	17. Chapter 17 An Explanation and a Hello

_*A/N: I almost feel evil for leaving a cliffhanger in the last chapter, when it wasn't even an **evil** one after all, as you all will see in a moment when you read this chapter, so to make it up to you, I posted this a day early. Enjoy!_

_*A/N 2: I really did post this on Saturday, but had alot of problems with alerts, so no one knew that I posted it, since the alerts didn't go out. Sorry!_

* * *

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 17: An Explanation and A Hello:**

Hermione heard a man clear his throat and she looked up into his face and smiled.

"Ahem, Miss Granger?" It was Iver, Milo's brother.

"Hello Mr. Dorchester," Hermione said.

"Iver please, and I'll call you Hermione. Are you aware that you've missed dinner?" he asked. He got down on his haunches and smiled at her.

"No," she hissed. She looked at her watch. "NO!" She was two hours late.

"We waited almost an hour, and neither you nor Mr. Malfoy showed, but then we at least got an Owl after about an hour from him saying that he was in the village. You, however, well, there was no word, and if my brother hadn't had a meeting with the other clans tonight, he would have been out looking for you earlier. We should let him know I found you. He's deep in the forest, convinced you were there. So much for his superior smelling ability." The younger man laughed, stood, and held out his hand for Hermione as he held his wand with the other hand to send off some sort of sparks, as a message to his brother.

She took his hand after putting everything back in the rucksack, and said, "I was so engrossed in my work, and I meant to come right to the castle, but as usual, I got lost in my work. I am so, so sorry! I'm so hungry, too. Will your brother be angry?"

"Undoubtedly, but so what?" Iver said, nonchalantly, letting her hand fall freely. "He's often angry, so that's nothing new."

Hermione wondered what Iver meant by that statement. She didn't ask, because he had already started walking back toward the castle. "I'm usually not so rude," she said as she walked along beside him. "Malfoy's usually the rude one."

"I think I could tell that on my own. He's very angry with you as well. He's just arrived back himself, and when he found out that you hadn't returned he was set to look for you, too, but Milo told him that we would find you. He didn't think that Draco should be out alone at night."

"Too much danger for strangers alone at night?" she asked, for clarification.

"Especially for him," Iver said. That comment confused Hermione, but before she could ask him to explain, he said, "You're under Milo's protection, so no one will touch you, or else they would be punished severely."

"Then he should put Malfoy under his protection as well," Hermione reasoned.

"It doesn't work that way. A male Valdes can't put another male under his protection, because males from the other clans wouldn't respect either man for that," Iver said.

"Draco's not a Valdes," Hermione said.

Iver shrugged. "Close enough," he said cryptically. They had reached the castle when Iver asked, "Did you make much progress today?"

"Yes, I found an interesting link between both of the original bodies and something inside your ancestral home," she admitted. They both entered the Great Hall at the same time.

"Really? How interesting, and my brother told me you found another body today. That was the reason for the meeting tonight. He's put all the clans on high alert, and he's warned them all again that you're under his protection. He's afraid something might happen to you while you're here." He started down a long hallway, and Hermione continued to follow.

"Wait, back to this protection nonsense," she started, grabbing his arm so that he would stop. "Were the murdered girls under his protection?"

Iver looked disturbed for a brief minute, but said, "Yes, and that's part of the thing he can't abide."

"Right, because his word is law, but if that's the case, what makes you think I would be safe out there, if they weren't?" she asked.

He frowned and said, "You probably weren't, and that's why he and Mr. Malfoy were so upset."

They walked through another set of doors into a large sitting room. There was a roaring fire in the fireplace, but the room was completely empty. Iver called for a servant to take Hermione's coat and bag. Iver looked at Hermione and said, "When I left, Mr. Malfoy and Cat were in here, but Milo said that he would have another meal prepared for you, so perhaps everyone's in the dining hall. Shall we look for them in there?" He didn't wait for an answer. He offered his arm, which she accepted.

They started down another flagstone floored hallway and she said, "May I ask you another question?"

"You just did," he joked.

"Okay, besides the one I just asked," she pointed out.

He grinned and urged her to continue with a motion of his hand.

"How old were you when you discovered that Cat was your mate?"

He stopped walking. He leaned against a wall, in front of a large tapestry, dropping her arm in the process. "Oh," he said, unexpectedly. "You see, not everyone gets to marry their mate, but didn't my brother already explain that to you? I thought he told me that he had."

"He did, but I guess I still assumed that she was your mate," she said truthfully. "I didn't mean to pry. I'm curious about all of this, that's all."

"I do care deeply for her," he defended. "She's an amazing, caring, lovely girl, and she will make me a wonderful wife, but she's not my mate. It doesn't matter, as I've never really met my mate. I had my vision on my fourteenth birthday, to the day. I saw a woman, blonde hair, blue eyes, but nothing else was clear."

Hermione leaned against the wall next to him. "How do you know that isn't Cat? She has blonde hair. Does she have blue eyes?"

"She does, but knowing your mate is a primal thing. To hear others tell it, when it happens, you know immediately," he said.

"You can't wait for your mate, because of the ancient law that Milo told me about, right, the one where one person from each family must marry from within their clan?" Hermione asked softly.

"It makes no matter to me," he said, although Hermione thought he seemed sad. He pushed away from the wall.

"May I ask another question?" she asked.

"I have a feeling you will anyway, no matter what I say, so go on," he said with a laugh.

"I just noticed something, and tell me if it's true, since I haven't met very many Valdes, but it seems to me that all Valdes are either dark-haired and eyed, like your brother and you, or blonde and blue-eyed, like Cat and her father. Are there no ginger-haired Valdes? No one with hazel eyes? No one with light-brown or ash-blonde hair, green eyes?"

"No," he answered lightly. "In ancient times the differences were called 'Day and Night'. The blonde, blue-eyes Valdes took after the original Veelas, who are naturally fair. The darker haired and eyed Valdes took after the Slavic Vampires, who were all very dark. There was a break in the clans, many centuries ago, and many of the fair coloured Valdes left this village, and joined the regular magical community."

Hermione found that fascinating. She wondered if Draco could be a descendent of these people after all. "Why were they called 'Day and Night'?" she asked.

"I think there's a story about it in that book of folktales that Mr. Malfoy told me you stole from the old woman's bookstore. You'll have to find out from that, because I truthfully don't know where that came from," he answered. He gave her a weak smile, but again, she thought he seemed extraordinarily sad.

Hermione wanted to tell this young man that he didn't have to marry anyone that he didn't want to marry, no matter what his brother said, no matter what their ancient law stated. She wanted to tell him that there was a big world out there, and that love was important, and that everyone should wait for their soul-mate, but she was an outsider, and her opinions wouldn't matter to him anyway, so all she said was, "I'll read that story first thing tonight, and I hope you and Cat are really happy."

They had continued their walk to the dining room of Rhodeana castle, but before they could step inside, Milo stepped outside. He gave his brother a stern look, which Hermione could not decipher. Iver stepped around him and entered the room, and shut the door.

Milo looked down at Hermione and said, "Don't ask my brother anymore questions. If you want to know something, ask me."

She didn't know how he had known she was asking Iver questions, but she said, "He seemed perfect amicable and willing to answer my questions. He escorted me here from the field near the castle, and we began to talk, that's all."

He took a step closer, which pressed her practically into the wall. "My brother is not to be questioned. Leave him alone."

"He didn't seem bothered by me," she said firmly. "And stop trying to intimidate me. I've known the biggest bully of them all for over half my life, and his name is Draco Malfoy, and if I'm not intimidated by him, I won't be intimated by you." She stepped around him and started into the dining room.

He grabbed her arm.

"Why didn't you come right back to the castle?" he asked.

"I got lost in my work," she answered honestly. She looked down at his hand on her arm. He was holding her almost 'too' tightly.

Before she could ask him to let her go, Draco walked down the long hallway, directly toward them. Milo dropped his hand from her arm, which was good, because Draco was about to demand that he do that very thing. Draco turned to Hermione and said, "I got back here, and imagine my surprise when they tell me that you didn't make it back. Is it your goal to give me a heart attack so that I die before I'm thirty?" he shouted.

"If there's nothing in it for me, then no," she answered flippantly. "And I apologize. As I was just explaining to Mr. Dorchester, I got lost in my work."

"Potter warned me that you would become one-minded about all of this!" he yelled. "Do you even want to know what I found out about the missing girl?"

"No, I don't want to know," she said sarcastically. "I like to be kept in the dark, remember." He gave her an annoyed look and she said, "Of course I want to know!"

"I do, too," Milo agreed.

"I went to the local newspaper to look at the old issues and I saw that there were reports of her missing, and they search for her, a long time before the first two girls went missing, almost a year before. I think she must be our first victim. I also asked a few people about her, including that waitress from the pub, and she said that everyone always thought Jennifer Cravens was weird, different. She said that people even suspected her, and these were her words, of being a witch."

Hermione gasped. She looked at Milo. "Do you know if that's true?"

"I don't think she was," Milo said, as shocked as Hermione. "I told her about the magic of our village, never quite going as far as saying that we were wizards, but I told her the ancient stories, I made them sound like fables and folklore, but I think she would have told me if she was a witch. She told me so many other things about her life."

"She worked in the bookstore with Violet Edgewater, the witch that was killed in the other village," Draco said. "The waitress said that Violet was her aunt."

Hermione sighed. "Then she probably _was_ a witch." She looked at Milo. "You had to have known. You knew who I was immediately. You even tried to use Legilimency on me that first day. I know you did. How could you not know she was a witch, if you became her friend," Hermione accused. "Malfoy's right, you are a suspect."

"Granger," Draco chastised.

"I didn't kill Jennifer, and I didn't kill those other girls!" Milo protested. "Why would I ask for an Auror and an Expert to come investigate, if I was guilty?"

Iver stepped out of the dining room and said, "Our dinner is getting cold for the second time tonight. Shall we all stop arguing and come in and eat?"

"Go in, Iver," Milo said, with a softer tone. "My apologies, we'll all be there in a moment."

Iver left them in the hall. Milo looked at Hermione and said, "I reiterate, I'm not guilty, but if you want to accuse me again, kindly do so with a softer tone, so that my family doesn't hear you. I won't warn you again. I won't have my brother upset." He turned and walked into the dining room.

Hermione frowned and said, "I'm starving, but I'm not eating with that horrible man."

"Who, Iver?" Draco asked. Hermione frowned at him. "I'm joking. I know you meant Milo," Draco reaffirmed with a smile. "Listen, you haven't eaten all day, it's very late, and I'm tired and hungry, and I know you are as well. I know you, Granger. I might know you better than I know anyone, and Milo has hurt your pride a bit, so you're peeved at him. Forget it and come eat."

"I'm not peeved, and you don't know me that well," she said.

She started down the hall, to leave the dining area, but he grabbed her hand. He pulled her back toward the dining room door. He smiled down at her and said, "I know you. I do. For instance, since this afternoon, I know you expect kisses hello and goodbye."

"That I do," she said with a half smile.

"I also know you get very cranky when you fail to eat, even violent sometimes. Shall we go have some dinner finally?" he asked.

Her smile faded slightly. She was hungry, but she would rather have a kiss. Where was her kiss hello?

"Oh, before we go eat, I have something for you." He leaned forward, one hand on each side of the wall beside her head, and he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Now, let's have some food. By the way, I talked to Scarhead tonight. He met me in the village, and that kiss was a kiss hello from him."

"Harry?" she asked. She placed her hands on Draco's shoulders as Draco placed his hands on her hips.

"Well, yes, do you know any other scarheads?" Draco asked.

"And that kiss was from him?" she asked sheepishly.

"Of course," he said, affronted, even if it was feigned. "I would never kiss you hello with a simple kiss on the forehead. I would kiss you like this," and he leaned down again, and pressed his lips on hers, kissed her briefly, looked at her, and then kissed her again.

"Hello, Granger," he said.

"Hello, Malfoy," she said back.

"Don't scare me like that again, do you hear?" he said in a rush.

"I won't," she promised.

"If I know you as well as I think I do, then you probably will," he said contritely.

"Again, you really don't know me that well," she insisted.

"But I do. Shall I prove it to you?"

"What?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Tonight, I'll prove to you how well I know you, Granger. Shall we go eat?" he asked. He nudged his nose along her jaw, to her neck.

"Are you okay?" she asked. She suddenly pressed her hands against his chest, and pushed him slightly away. "Are you no longer afraid of hurting me?"

"Afraid? Me, afraid of you? How silly," he said. "Where did you get that idea? That would be as silly as you being peeved at Milo, which you insist that you aren't." He smiled, opened the door to the dining room and ushered her inside, his hand on the small of her back.

No, he was no longer afraid. Potter wasn't good for much, but he had assured Draco that love could reign over terror and darkness just as long as Draco remembered that he did love her, which by the way, he realized that he did. Draco Malfoy loved Hermione Granger, he know he did, and he had told Harry Potter that very thing this evening.

Now he would have to tell Hermione Granger sometime. Maybe tonight, he would even show her.


	18. Chapter 18 An Apology and a Secret

_*A/N: No alerts went out when I posted chapter 17, and likewise, I didn't get many reviews on it, which made me sort of sad, but it couldn't be helped. Here is a super long chapter, so show me how happy you are with it, okay?_

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**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 18: An Apology and a Secret: **

Entering the dining room, Hermione sat down next to Cat, on one side of the table, to Milo's left, and looked around the table. Iver was across from Milo, and Draco was across from the women, but Cat's father was missing. "Is Mr. MacNeill going to join us?" she asked no one in particular.

"He ate the first time dinner was served. He goes to be early," Cat explained.

"I'm sorry about that," Hermione said softly, knowing that it was her fault that they held dinner. She looked up and Malfoy was smirking at her. She had an urge to throw a roll at him, but the food had yet to be served. Milo motioned to the servants that they should serve the food. She thought she saw a strange look cross from Milo to Iver, but she wasn't sure.

As they started eating their soup, Iver said, "Mr. Malfoy told us earlier that the dead girl you found today was from Dorchester, and that she might have been the first victim, as well as being a witch."

Hermione almost spit out her soup. "Dorchester? What's Dorchester? Do you mean the other village?" She looked from Milo to Iver.

"Yes, that's the name of the village across the loch," Iver answered.

"It's named Dorchester?" she asked. The same as their last name? Why did she not know that? She looked over at Draco, but he only looked amused. "I didn't know the other village was called Dorchester," she said.

Draco laughed and said, "One usually doesn't ask for the name of a place as they're leaving it, running for their life."

"Shut up," she hissed.

Cat turned to Hermione and said, "You didn't know that Iver's ancestors founded both villages originally?"

"No, I didn't," she said plainly. She looked over at Draco, accusingly, and said, "I guess there are still many things about this case I don't know."

"Hey, don't blame me," he said. "You were the one driving that day. We clearly passed a sign that said Dorchester so many kilometers, and then another one that said welcome to Dorchester, but you were too busy driving slow, talking too much, and being a general thorn in my side to notice."

She glared at him before she said, "You know I didn't make the connection. You should have told me."

"I figure you always know everything," he leveled back.

"Don't accuse me of that old thing again. It's tiresome to always be called a know-it-all," she said.

"But it describes you so well," he said amiably.

"It's rude, you know, but then again, you're the prince of rude," she said with disdain.

"That's the one that's getting old, dear," he said sweetly.

The other three dinner guests were watching the two exchange words back and forth, one fascinated, one amused, and one angry.

"I'm just saying, you need to keep me apprised of things, Malfoy," she complained. "Otherwise, this whole partnership won't work."

"I didn't know we had a partnership. I thought we had a dictatorship, with you being the boss, and as far as keeping you informed, I try, but again, you only half listen to any given thing I say," he complained.

"That's because only half of what you say to me is intelligent," she said back. "And you're the bossy one, and the one that only half listens to me."

"That's because half of what you say is so incredibly boring that it drones on, and on, and on and I fall asleep nine times out of ten," he said, motioning with his hand.

Iver smiled, leaned over to Cat and said, "Fascinating, aren't they, how they go back and forth? It's like watching a Muggle tennis match."

Hermione sat upright, blushed, and said, "Oh, excuse us. How rude of Malfoy."

Iver laughed again.

Milo grumbled and Hermione cast him a dirty look. Cat looked bemused and said, "How long have you and Mr. Malfoy known each other?"

Draco answered and said, "Since we were children."

"And how long have you known you were mates?" she asked.

The other four stared at her in shock and an awkward silence ensued. Milo threw down his napkin and said, "Who told you that they were mates?"

"Um, well, Iver did," she stuttered.

Iver looked over at his brother and said, "I thought you told me that they were. I didn't know it was a secret. I'm sorry I said anything."

"It's not a secret, but neither is it something that should be discussed at the dinner table!" Milo practically shouted.

Hermione looked embarrassed, and Draco looked as livid as Milo. "More to the point, I'm not some mythical creature who has a mate, thank you very much." He didn't know what else to say.

"I apologize for Cat speaking out of turn, but that was rude, Malfoy. We aren't creatures. We are men, first and foremost, who are ruled by magic, but enough talk of mates," Milo announced. He turned to Cat and chastised, "They aren't mates! I was wrong when I told Iver that, and he was wrong when he told you. You've embarrassed our guests, Cat. Apologize!"

"I'm truly sorry," the young girl said. She looked from Draco to Hermione and then to Iver, who shrugged, but continued to eat.

Hermione placed her napkin in her lap, and her soupspoon down and looked down at the table, quietly pondering what she should say and do. Why was Milo so angry? She understood Draco's anger and indignation, after all, they were discussing his private business, but Milo was acting as if they were speaking about him. Furthermore, why did he say that they _weren't_ mates? What would he know about things? She finally looked at Milo, and to change the subject she asked, "Why is the other village called Dorchester?"

Milo sat back in his chair and said, "A long, long time ago, some of the Veela who didn't mate with Vampires mated with Muggles instead, and the Muggle village of Dorchester was born from those people. It's terribly old, almost as old as our village. They've never liked each other, although they're still related, to a degree. It stands to reason that some of them might still have some magically ability, and that some of our clansmen who've left our village along the way might have decided to settle there, and have probably intermarried with our other descendents."

"And that might be why you look to that village for your mate?" she asked.

Everyone at the table looked at Hermione, shocked that she would ask that question. "Granger," Draco responded, "I thought we had all decided that we weren't going to talk about mate nonsense."

"It's only nonsense to you," Milo said, looking Draco squarely in the eye. He looked back to Hermione and said a simple, "Yes."

Milo snapped his finger and the servants brought the next course. Hermione said, "I'm glad to see you don't employ house elves here."

Draco smiled and said, "Granger had a bit of a campaign back in school against slave labor and house elf servitude. She was always championing something or other back in school."

Hermione smiled at him and said, "Yes well, someone had to champion the less fortunate."

"You mean Weasley and Potter?" he asked.

"Do you mean Harry Potter?" Cat asked Draco. "Do you know him?"

Draco grimaced as Hermione hid her laugh. "Unfortunately, yes," he said.

Hermione butted in and said, "Harry Potter is my best friend, and he was Draco's worst adversary during school, but now he's his boss at work. Do you know of Harry Potter?"

"Of course we all know of him! The Dark Lord tried to get our village to become Death Eaters during the second war, because they supported him during the first war, but Milo wouldn't hear of it, would you Milo?" Cat explained

Hermione looked at Milo and said, "I didn't know that."

"Why would you?" he asked back. "Our secrets are our secrets. I'm not proud that some of our clansmen helped the Dark Lord during the first war, and it certainly wasn't easy not being pulled into the second one."

"But you should be proud that you didn't help him during the second war. You must have been young, and it must have been hard to resist him," she said back.

Draco dropped his fork. She looked at him and gave him an apologetic smile. She didn't mean to bring up painful memories for him. She didn't mean to accuse him of anything. She knew that he had no choice but to follow him when he was a boy. She didn't hold him accountable.

"My, we _are_ having pleasant dinner conversation tonight," Iver said with a grin. "Dead girls, evil wizards, possible mates. What's the next topic of conversation? Floods, plagues, pestilence?"

Suddenly, everyone looked at Iver and laughed.

Soon, everyone was eating and talking amongst each other, with Hermione trying to explain to Cat about her days in school when she tried to help free the house elves. "You see, I'm just such a passionate person, and it's hard for me to give up on something when I think an injustice is being done."

Draco was talking with Iver, so Milo was listening to Cat and Hermione. He said, "Don't apologize for being a passionate, caring person, Hermione. It's an admirable trait." Hermione turned toward Milo as he stared at her long and hard. He reached across the table and grabbed her hand. He gave it a squeeze quickly, and then withdrew his hand before anyone saw. However, Hermione 'saw' it. She _felt_ it. She too withdrew her hand from the table and placed it on her lap.

"Say, Milo," Iver said from across the table, "Draco here was telling me that in the last five years, three other girls have come up missing from the other village besides this Jennifer Cravens."

Hermione looked surprised. Draco continued, "Yes, I sent all of their names to the Ministry, to see if they might have been witches, or squibs. I hope to get an Owl back from them tonight."

"And you told them about the body we found today?" she asked.

"Yes. They've sent a team of Aurors, with Milo's permission, to the forest to collect the body already, since it's been revealed that she was a witch. Harry was in that team. They'll send us all the reports and copies of all of the evidence when they're done processing it."

"Harry's here, too? He wasn't just in Dorchester?" she asked.

Draco nodded. He knew he was selfish to keep that information from her, but for some reason, he didn't want her to see Harry, at least not right now. He was afraid Harry might reveal to Hermione what Draco had told him, or that Hermione might pull it out of Harry. It was better that those two not see each other right now.

When they were eating pudding, Cat turned to Hermione and said, "Do you have a boyfriend, Hermione?"

Milo glowered at her, and even Iver frowned. He reached over for her wrist and said, "I think we shouldn't ask anymore personal questions, sweetheart."

"Well if she and Draco aren't mates, it stands to reason that she might have a boyfriend. I was just curious," Cat amended.

"It's fine," Hermione said. She looked at the younger girl and said, "I had a boyfriend recently, but we aren't together any longer." She hoped the girl wouldn't ask any more questions, but her hope was in vain.

"Did you love him very much?" she asked. "I love Iver very much."

Hermione opened her mouth, feeling rather like a trout when no words would come out. She looked at Draco, then to Milo. When it was apparent that neither man could possibly answer her question for her, she looked back at Cat and said, "I loved him, or I wouldn't have been with him, but he wasn't the man for me."

"Why?" she asked back.

"ENOUGH!" The order came from the other end of the table, and Cat and Hermione both looked toward the sound of the command. It came from Draco, not Milo. Draco said, "He was a pompous arse who wasn't good enough for her, who tried to control her every move, and who would have made her unhappy in the long run, because they weren't compatible. Therefore, she tossed the tosser on his ear and before you ask me any questions, I'm single, I like it that way, and there's no one in my life right now, okay?"

"My," Milo sneered, "this _is_ turning into a pleasant dinner." He turned back to Cat and said, "This is why you shouldn't ask personal questions of people, Cat."

"Stop picking on her," Iver said to his brother. Hermione had an inkling that he rarely stood up to his brother. "She's just curious, as am I, and if they don't want to answer our questions, they don't have to do so. Here, I have one," and he looked at them both in turn. "How did you two meet again? I know you said that you've known each other since you were young, but how did you meet?" He looked at Hermione and asked, "Did Draco steal one of your toys from the playground, or push you off a swing?" He looked at Draco and asked, "Or did Hermione try to teach you to read before you could walk, and then was angry when you couldn't do it properly?"

They both laughed, because Iver smiled widely after he asked the questions, and then at the same time they said, "We went to school together." Then they looked at each other and smiled at the same time.

"You both went to Hogwarts, I assume," Iver asked.

"Yes, do you know much about Hogwarts?" Hermione asked, before she took a bite of her suet pudding.

"I always wanted to go there. I've read _Hogwarts, A History_, before," Iver said.

"Oh Merlin, help us," Draco groaned to himself. Hermione was already sitting upright in her seat, excited, her spoon dangling from her hand.

"That's my favourite all time book!" she exclaimed. "If you've read it, you know all about the four houses, right? Guess what house I was in!"

"Gryffindor," Iver guessed.

"Right! I was in Gryffindor, and Prince Rude over there was in Slytherin."

"I assumed as much," Iver said with a smile. "So you were natural born enemies?"

"I hated him," she clarified.

"And I hated her," Draco added.

"He was pureblood," she leveled.

"She was Mudblood," he said with a smirk.

"He thought he was better than everyone else," she laughed.

"And she knew that she was better than everyone else," he said back.

"Then we grew up," she said, "And so the story goes."

"And we lived happily ever after," Draco concluded.

Iver, Cat and Hermione laughed. Milo pushed his plate away and determined that dinner was over. "Let's retire to the Great Room," he announced. Everyone stood to leave, except for Iver. Cat walked over to Draco to ask him about Hogwarts, so he took her arm and they left the room. Iver remained in his seat, slumped forward, and grabbed his stomach.

Hermione walked over to him and said, "Are you alright?"

"Fine, fine, don't worry about me," he said through the pain. Milo was watching them from the door, he snapped his fingers once more, and two servants came and helped Iver from his chair. One stood on each side of the younger man and helped him down the hall and out of sight.

Draco and Cat were already in the large Great Room by the time Iver was escorted toward the stairs, but Hermione was still in the hallway with Milo, watching as they rounded the corner to head toward the large Great Hall, which would lead to the large, circular stone staircase. "What's wrong with him?" She turned to Milo.

"He's inflicted with an illness that often affects members of our clan, that's all. Sometimes it's worse than other times. Don't worry about it," he said lightly. He turned to her and said, "I was harsh to you earlier, and I am sorry. It seems all I've done this evening has been to utter apologies."

"You love your brother, and your people and your village, and you want to see a wrong righted. You're passionate about things, too, just like I am. I can't find fault in that, can I?" she said.

He stared at her, unable to speak. He suddenly felt awkward, and he exhaled a breath, irritated with himself. He shook his head and said, "You have an odd effect on me, Hermione." He was breathing hard. "I don't know what to make of the way I feel around you. It's different than the way I've ever felt around anyone else."

"What are you trying to say?" she asked. She was completely aware they were standing all alone in a long corridor, of a very large castle, with paintings and tapestries on the wall, rugs on the floor, and soft light from sconces on the wall their only company.

He took a step closer, and she was backed against the wall, in the same position that she held before dinner. "I'm trying to say that I don't think I like it," he said. "You aren't my mate. I would know if you were, and you're not, so I shouldn't feel this way about you. I know you're not my mate."

"That's a good thing, isn't it?" she asked. "Since I seem to be Draco's mate, even though he's in denial, it's a good thing that I'm not yours."

"No, it's not a good thing, because if you're not my mate, then I shouldn't feel this way. If you're not my mate, then why do I want to kiss you so badly?" he said in hushed tones. He placed one hand on the wall, leaned down, and brushed his lips softly against hers. "If I want to kiss you so badly," he said, after his lips parted from hers, "what does that say about our whole mating ritual system? What does that say about me? If you're not my mate, then what have I been waiting for, for so long? Does that mean that I've been wasting my life, looking for a phantom, for something that's not even out there? You're here, in front of me, living, breathing, and I want to kiss you again."

He leaned down and kissed her again, and she felt powerless to stop him. She didn't kiss him back…she didn't lean into the kiss, wrap her arms around him, or stand up on her tiptoes to meet him better, but she didn't push him away either, though she did eventually, before he could deepen the kiss.

Her hands went to his chest and she pushed him away. He lowered his forehead to her shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he said. He looked up at her, and his index finger went up to her lips. He traced the line there, and she felt as if her knees were weak and that they might falter. She felt a tingle in her belly from his touch, and with that tingle, she felt as if she had just betrayed Draco.

He lifted his finger and said, "It's better that we stop, since my mate is still out there, and you're clearly his. I know it's a hard thing for either of you to accept, or believe, but it's true." He pushed away from her and said, "Anyway, if I decided to stake a claim with you, he would have to fight me, and I would kill him, and I was just starting to like him."

He said it so seriously that Hermione felt a different sort of tingle, this one laced with fear. She said, "Don't you dare lay a hand on him."

He smiled and said, "I won't, for now. You have my word." He turned to walk away from her but turned back suddenly and said, "But if he continues to deny what we both know is true, you will be fair game. I set up one of the older rooms on the third floor, near the west tower, as an office for you and Draco to work in, and your papers from earlier were placed there, as well as your other papers from the crimes. I think I'll collect Cat from Draco, check on Iver, and then call it a night. Goodnight, Hermione, and once again, and I hope for the last time tonight, I'm sorry."

"For the kiss?" She had to ask.

He grinned, shook his head, and stepped back toward her. "No, the kiss was nice. I'm glad I did that. I might do it again sometime." He reached out to push her hair off her shoulder, his hand lingered there for a second before he turned to walk toward the Great Room at the end of the long hallway. Hermione remained motionless by the doors to the dining room.

Milo merely called for Cat, and she came running out of the room. They both walked in front of Hermione as she stood in the hallway, Cat waved and said goodnight, while Milo only glared at her.

Draco leaned out of the doorway of the Great Hall, watching as they walked out of sight. Then he looked at Hermione, all alone by the dining room door, and he said, "Pssst, Granger, come in here, I have a secret to tell you."

She walked slowly toward him and said, "I think I have a bigger one."

"Can't be possible, because mine's really big," he said, still in a whisper. "It's something Cat just told me." He was leaning partway in the Great Room, partway in the hallway, his hand on the doorknob, holding most of his weight.

She walked to the threshold of the room and said, "Mine is much bigger, trust me."

He straightened up, rolled his eyes, and said, "Fine, tell me your big secret then."

She placed her hands on his shoulders, stood up on her tiptoes, and leaned into him, all the things she didn't do with Milo when he kissed her, and she placed her moist lips right on his ear. He wrapped his arms around her waist. She said, "Milo just kissed me in the hallway, and at first I didn't push him away."

Draco swallowed hard, pushed her from him, placed his hands on her shoulders, and looked deeply in her eyes. She was telling the truth. Damn. Now he was probably going to have to kill Milo Dorchester, just when he was starting to like the man.

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_Evil laugh....HA, HA, HA, HA! Let the love triangle begin, although, seriously, this is a Dramione, not a Milomione. (I just made myself laugh!)_


	19. Chapter 19 A Coward and a Backpack

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 19: A Coward and a Backpack:**

"You coward," Draco said to his reflection that next morning. He showered, shaved, changed, and now he was standing in the small bathroom, looking at his reflection in the mirror, and the only thought he had was that he was a coward. The reason for his assessment was simple. After Hermione had told him that Milo had kissed her, he merely walked away.

That's all he did, even though he wanted to do so much more.

He didn't say a word to her. He pushed her away, ascertained that she was telling the truth, clinched his fists, huffed in anger, and walked away from her and went to bed. She knocked on the door to his room sometime later to tell her that the Owls from the Ministry had arrived, but he pretended to be asleep and he didn't answer her. He was a coward.

What was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to be angry with her? He was. He really was. He wanted to ask her a million questions. "Did you kiss him back?" "Did you slap him in the face?" "Did you enjoy it?" She already said that _at first_ she didn't push him away. What did that mean? Did that mean that the kiss went on and on and only after many moments later did she remember Draco and finally push Milo away? Did that mean that she wanted him to kiss her?

He wanted to accuse her - How dare you! You belong to me! You're mine!

Only…she wasn't really, was she? They had only shared a couple of kisses, they hadn't even gone out on a date, and so what if he had a dream, many years ago, that she was his mate. He didn't even believe in this whole 'mate' thing, did he? Besides, they had never made any formal declarations to each other. They could both kiss whomever they wanted. They didn't even really like each other that much.

Did they?

He also wanted to find Milo Dorchester and tear him limb from bloody limb, but again, the man wasn't out of bounds, not really. Draco had sat at the man's own table, right before the kiss, and had declared to everyone that Hermione wasn't his mate, that he didn't believe in 'mates', that he was single, and that he liked it like that, so Milo must have thought that Hermione was fair game. Moreover, she was, wasn't she?

Except she wasn't! She was his, and everyone should know that. Draco felt horrible this morning, and he didn't know what to do. He banged his head against the mirror of the bathroom once for good measure.

Last night, after she told him about the kiss, he walked away from her as she called his name. He also ignored her last night when she knocked on his door telling him that the evidence had arrived. After he first entered the bathroom this morning he ignored her again when she knocked on the door to tell him that Iver was apparating her back to the old castle so she could check out something quickly, but that she would be right back if he wanted to talk.

Now it seemed as if she was ignoring him. He had just arrived to the breakfast room, and the only people there were Mr. MacNeill, Cat and Iver. Draco sat down, and the first thing out of his mouth was, "Where are Hermione and Milo?"

"Milo had things to oversee on our property this morning, with the tenants," Iver explained, "and Hermione asked that a breakfast tray be sent up to your office on the third floor. We just got back from the old castle and she said that she had a lot of work to do."

Apparently, Draco wasn't the only coward.

Hermione couldn't face the same awkwardness at breakfast that she had faced at dinner the night before. She also couldn't face Draco. He was angry about the kiss, he was avoiding her, but she didn't know what she chould do about it, so she decided to ask that a breakfast tray be brought up to the 'office' that Milo had set up for them, and to get straight to work.

She knew that Draco would be angry about the kiss, but did that mean that she should have lied to him? If she hadn't told him, that would have been paramount to lying in her book and Hermione wasn't a liar. She wanted everything to be out in the open between them. In the very least, she expected him to yell at her last night. Especially the way she had phrased her sentence, saying that '_at first'_ she didn't push Milo away. She expected him to ask all sorts of things, such as, "How long did the kiss last?" "Why didn't you push him away as soon as he kissed you?" and "Did you kiss him back?"

Nevertheless, he said nothing. He didn't say one single thing. He looked at her, balled his hands into fists at his sides, clenched his jaw, and stormed down the hallway toward the stairs. She called after him and he didn't turn around once.

And she didn't even get to find out what his secret was.

She knew he wasn't asleep when she knocked on his bedroom door last night to tell him that the evidence had arrived back to the castle, because there was a faint light under the door, but as soon as she knocked, it went out. Then this morning, she had just heard the bathroom door shut, so she knocked on it, but he ignored her again.

She wasn't sure she blamed him, but she wasn't sure she blamed herself either. She didn't ask Milo to kiss her! True, she didn't push him away the second he leaned forward, and she should have. True, she didn't slap the man across the face, and she wasn't above doing such a thing. True, she could have kept it all to herself…but none of those things made Hermione responsible. Did it?

So what if she kissed Milo, or if Milo kissed her? Draco had mixed feelings about his Veela heritage, and the whole 'mate thing' and Hermione wasn't so ready to go along with it all anyway, so what did any of it matter in the light of day? Draco wasn't her boyfriend. They weren't even really friends. They were work colleagues. That's all they were, apparently. Work colleagues who wouldn't even talk with each other.

Harry sent them all of the actual evidence, along with the photographs and the reports by Owl late last night. Hermione had this, along with all the older reports, photos, and evidence, strewn out before her on a long table that was in the middle of the room. She picked up a pair of earrings that the first girl was wearing when she was killed. They were in a small, plastic bag. This was exactly the piece of evidence for which she was looking. This was a link! She had Iver take her back to the older castle this morning to check out a rune so she could be certain, and she was.

The design of the earrings was unfamiliar to her, but she was sure it was Celtic. She turned them over and sure enough, familiar etchings were carved in the silver on the back. They were so small, that she could not make out the symbols with her naked eye. She placed them on the table, and was about to say a spell so she could enlarge them, when a knock came to the door.

She turned, wand in the air, and said, "Come in."

Draco came in with the breakfast tray. Hermione still had her wand in the air and he said, "Whoa, I come in peace. Lower your wand, please."

She lowered her wand and watched as he placed the tray at the end of the table where she was working. "This is how I think you should look," he said. "Papers all around, books opened, things scattered about, yes, this is right. This is familiar, the way I always remembered you from school. You always took up a whole table in the library whenever we had a report to write. It was damn irritating. You would have every book on your table, and no one else could use them."

She took a steady breath as he walked around to her side of the table. He was so close that she could smell his aftershave, and it smelled nice.

He said, "Hermione Granger," he picked up her hand, "ink stained fingers, books, parchment, quills, ink all around. You even have a smudge of ink on your cheek." He reached up to her, touched her cheek, and rubbed at the small ink smudge with his thumb.

"I'm sorry I let Milo kiss me," she said softly. "I should have stopped him right away. I was shocked."

"I know," he said, because he did know, and there was nothing else to say about it. "I can't say I don't care, or that it doesn't matter," he said, lowering his hand. "But I had just spent an hour at dinner proclaiming that I didn't believe in mates, I didn't have a mate, and that I wasn't in a relationship, so I can't say anything to you if you kiss another man."

"Yes you can," she said quickly. She placed her hand on his arm, and grasped it tightly. He looked down at her hand, then back in her eyes. "I'm not saying I want you to be some possessive buffoon who dictates to me what I can or can't do, but I thought we had declared our feelings for each other, and made it clear that we felt things…I know I did."

She let go of his arm and added, "No matter right now." She sat down at the table and started to eat.

"You coward," he said.

"Excuse me?" Her head popped up and she stared at him with ire.

He smirked, pushed aside the tray, sat on the table so that his hip was touching her arm, and he said, "How dare you hide up here and make me take breakfast alone with those circus freaks."

She bit the inside of her cheek, raised her brows, and then said, "Circus freaks?"

"Well, yes," he explained, "and it was worse when Milo came back."

"Explain your analogy, please," Hermione said, highly entertained. She took another bite of her breakfast, and waited in anticipation.

"Well, Milo is clearly the Ringmaster, because he barks orders, and everyone pays attention to him." He got up, walked around to the other side of her, and sat back down on top of the table. She pushed on his hip to scoot him over before she took a bite of her toast.

"MacNeill is the foreign juggler, because I have a feeling he secretly juggles all of the others around, to do his bidding," he said, "Plus, I can't understand a bloody thing that man says, his accent is so thick."

Hermione merely laughed, then said, "He is strange."

He continued, "Iver would be the lion tamer, because he has a way with Cat. She's a scary little thing. She would be a clown. Clowns are scary."

Hermione dropped her fork, her eggs falling to her plate in the process. "Clowns are scary?"

"They are to me," he joked. "White faces, red hair, big noses…oh wait, I think maybe I'm just scared of Weasleys."

She laughed outright but then she hit his thigh and said, "You are so not funny!"

"But you are _so_ laughing," he said. He picked up her hand, and examined her fingers for a minute.

"I need my hand to eat," she said.

"Wouldn't you rather eat the food I brought up?" he said dryly. He dropped her hand. He stayed on the table while she continued to eat, and he leaned over and picked up the letter from Harry. "When did this arrive?"

"Last night, along with a large package with all the evidence," she replied. "I tried to tell you last night, but I think you didn't want to see me, Coward."

He stroked her hair fondly, and then read the letter from Harry. He said aloud, "All three girls that went missing in the last five years from Dorchester were registered witches. Two were considered Muggle-born, and one's mother was a squib. He sent along some DNA from one of the girl's mothers, to see if you can get a trace on her body."

"I know," Hermione said. "Harry feels the other girls' bodies are buried here somewhere, too. I hope we find them, for their families, and I hope we don't find them, because Draco, we are already looking at a serial killer." She stood up, removed the tray from the table, and set it by the door. "What was your secret from last night?" She walked back over to the table.

He scratched his nose, placed the letter back on the table, and then said, "Pardon?" He was stalling, just to irritate her.

She stood in front of him and cocked her head to the side. "You heard me. You're just trying to irriate me."

"No, I didn't hear you. Come closer." He wiggled his finger toward his chest, urging her closer. She stood her ground. He signed and said, "Why can't you yield to me and my charms?"

She laughed. "Yield to you. You're so funny."

He sighed louder and said, "Cat said that originally she was supposed to marry Milo." When Draco said that, Hermione's eyes became wide as saucers. He smiled and said, "I told you it was a big secret, but you had to upstage me with that stupid kiss."

"Are you serious?" she asked.

"I'm as serious as I can be," he said back. "She said that it was an arranged marriage set by both sets of parents, since Milo is considered the prime, or the clan leader, the eldest. When he took over control of his clan, from MacNeill by the way, who was running the show until Milo reached age seventeen; he proclaimed that his younger brother Iver would do that task instead. She also said that Iver and she should have been married a long time ago, but that Milo keeps putting it off, not Iver."

"I wonder why," Hermione said.

"I don't know, but Cat said she was happy that Iver was her intended instead of Milo. She said she was only twelve at the time of the switch, and that Iver was fourteen, but that she always liked him better than she liked Milo. She said that Milo was too severe and serious for her, and that Iver was sweet. Am I sweet, Granger?" He reached out, grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him. He placed his arms around her waist.

"You are many things but sweet isn't a word that comes to mind, no," she said, though she seemed distracted. "Did you know that Iver was ill somehow?"

"No, how is he ill?" he asked. He dropped his hands from her waist; she tried to walk away, so he pulled on her arm to bring her closer to the V of his legs as he sat on the table.

"Some illness that only affects clan members. I think it's time we talk to other clan members. I might be able to get more from Iver, but Milo doesn't want me talking to him. Perhaps we could go into Glendora and talk to some of the people there," she decided. "I also still really need to read that book of folktales."

"I need to go back to the area where we found the last body first," Draco said. "I need to see something there."

"Good," she added, "Because I need to see something else at the old castle. Something I might have missed this morning." She turned to leave again, and he pulled on the back of her jumper. He pulled her back to him. "What?" she asked.

"Where are you going? I need to ask you a question."

"Okay," she said softly.

"Will you go on a date with me tonight," he said seriously.

She bit her lip, and tried not to smile. "Where? This place isn't very romantic, and we can't leave, and we can't go into Dorchester, because as you're aware, they hate me there," she reminded him with a smile.

"They, my dear princess, are fools," he said clearly. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, which caused a frisson of fury and fire in her belly. She blinked, too many times, she was sure, but they were so close to each other, and she wanted to kiss him again. She placed her hands on his shoulders. "We could go to the tower, above this room. That would be rather romantic, don't you think? Have a picnic at twilight."

"Ah, twilight, when day meets the night," Hermione waxed poetically.

He placed a finger under her chin and said, "Well, don't leave me in suspense. Will you go out with me?"

"Yes," she said, a bit too hurried. She could scarcely contain her joy, and he seemed rather pleased as well.

He pushed her away from him, hopped of the table, but then he threw one arm around her shoulders, surprising her, and he pulled her to him and kissed her squarely, soundly, smoothly, but quickly on the lips. "Your mandatory kiss hello, princess. I'm nothing if not diligent. Shall we go?"

"Let me get my things." She pushed away from him and began to pack a backpack with papers and things. "You go to the new murder site, and I'll go to the castle." He picked up the earrings from the table just as she had said that.

"Alone?" he inquired. He looked up from fingering the earrings that were on the table. "No, we'll stick together, and on this, I'm standing fast. We'll both go back to the site, then to the castle."

"No," she complained. She walked over to the table and took the earrings from his hand. She placed them in the bag. "It will waste too much time, and I have so much to do here, and it will take us forever just to walk there, and I think its best if I go to the castle alone, and I still want to go to the village, and I have a date to get ready for tonight."

He frowned and said, "How many 'ands' did you use in that sentence?"

She thought for a moment and said, "Only five."

He threw his hands up in the air, and said to himself, "She's so weird. Why does my mate have to be weird?" He started to walk out of the room when the backpack hit him on the head. He rubbed his head, turned back to her and said, "I forgot about your propensity toward hitting me whilst my back was turned."

"Listen, rude boy," she said. "First, don't go throwing around the mate word if you're still unsure about it, because it's unsettling. Second, I can get Iver or Milo to take me to the castle. I really think I should go alone."

He stared at her, ready to argue, but then he realized that she was doing this for him. She knew that the castle had an odd effect on him and she was trying to protect him. As he stared at her, rubbing the back of his head, because a backpack to the head really did hurt, he had another odd thought, and he tried to squash this one just as he tried to squash all the other ones yesterday, but his one kept coming, and coming, and coming, and it refused to disappear. He soon recognized it for what it was. He loved her.

He loved Hermione Granger.

Not because of a dream he had many years ago when he was a teenager that she was his mate, not because of the ancient magic of this place, not because of his Veela heritage. He loved her because she loved him enough to hit him over the head with a backpack. He laughed.

"What's so funny?" she asked. She stood with her hands on her hips, her foot tapping on the stone floor, and an irritated look on her face, and he wanted to throw his arms around her and hug her and kiss her and….how many 'ands' was that?

He shook his head and said, "Hermione, listen…no, don't listen." He laughed again. He loved her. She was frowning. He even loved her when she frowned. He stifled his smile, placed a hand on her arm, and said, "Please, don't go down there alone, and don't go with Milo. Please. I don't mind Iver taking you, or I'll take you and stay outside, if you don't want me down in the chamber with you, but I don't want you to go alone. It's important to me." He thought to himself, 'You're important to me.'

She nodded and said, "We'll both go to the site first, then we'll both go to the old castle, I'll quickly go downstairs and confirm something, and you'll stay upstairs." He traced his finger down her cheek as she spoke.

"That sounds reasonable. I'm glad you came up with such a great plan, Granger," he said teasingly. He leaned toward her and placed his cheek next to hers. "I don't want you to ever be afraid to tell me what you think. If you didn't want me in the chamber, you didn't have to hit me on the head." He leaned back and smiled again.

She smiled back at him, cupped his cheek, and placed her lips softly on his. She kissed him breathlessly, softly, and then said, "It's true, I don't think you should go back in the chamber, but that's not why I hit you on the head. I hit you on the head because you're a rude bugger sometimes."

He laughed again and thought, 'Isn't love grand.'


	20. Chapter 20 A Symbol and a Threat

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 20: A Symbol and a Threat: **

Draco wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he was looking for something. He was at the gravesite of the latest body, and though most of the evidence had been removed, he was still sure there was something here. 'Something' that would tell him WHY these girls were killed, or in the very least, something that would connect all of the cases together. He felt it in his bones.

Hermione was sitting under a tree, looking at those earrings again. They were found on the first victim. He walked over to her and said, "Why are you so fascinated with those earrings?"

She motioned with her finger that he should join her on the ground. He was about to protest, after all, she wouldn't come to him earlier when he did the same motion with his finger. Still, he plopped down next to her without protest. Hermione took his hand, and placed one of the silver, diamond shaped earrings on his palm, turning it so the back was facing him.

She said, "It's very hard to make out the symbols on the back of this small earring, but they are there, nonetheless." She said a spell, and the earring enlarged in his hand. She said, "Look, there's a snake, a crown under it, a horse's head under the crown and then a bull's head at the very bottom, and then a wreath at the bottom of them all, which wraps around both sides, and almost reaches the top."

She placed the mate in his hand and said, "See how small it appears when it's normal size. One wouldn't even notice that there was a design on it."

"But you noticed," he said.

"I tend to notice things," she said, in a self-effacing way. She shrunk the first one back so that he was hold two matching earrings and she said, "Look at the symbol on the front."

He stared at the symbol, which appeared to be four interlocking circles. "It appears Celtic."

"I think it is," she concurred. She held up one piece of the jewelry, her fingertips brushing the palm of his hand as she did so, making him smile inwardly as she said, "This symbol is in the chamber of the old castle."

"Are you sure?" he asked. He looked at the remaining earring in his hand carefully. She took it from him and placed it in the small plastic bag with its partner.

"Iver took me there this morning so I could be positive, and I want to go again when we're done here, because there were other symbols there, too. I want to copy them down. I didn't copy them at first, because I only copied the obvious runes and symbols. These symbols were along the cornice of the room, more like decoration, but now I suspect they mean something more."

Draco turned to face her as she got up on her knees to reach over for the backpack to place the earrings back inside. He took her wrist, causing her to pause because his touch was almost electric. She stopped and stared at him. He said, "What could the other things mean - the serpent, the horse's head and the like? And what would Sandra Parrish be doing with earrings that have an ancient Celtic symbol on them?" He released her wrist.

"Maybe someone gave them to her," Hermione concluded. She leaned down into the backpack and pulled out a folder. She sat back beside him, accidentally sitting on his hand. She looked embarrassed, but he laughed and pulled it out from under her bum.

"Pardon," she said.

"No, no, my pleasure," he joked. She hit him with the folder, though she blushed, and then opened it to show him a picture of the second dead girl. "Here's a picture of the second victim, or if we are counting Jennifer as the first, she would be the third. Her name was Catherine Anderson." Hermione pointed to the girl's wrist. "Here, in the picture of her body, before it was examined and exhumed, she has a bracelet on her wrist." Hermione enlarged the picture, and sure enough, the bracelet had the same charm as the first girl's earrings.

She placed the enlarged picture in front of them, and pulled out a ring in a plastic bag. "This was in the evidence that Harry sent us last night. It was on the last body we found."

"Jennifer Craven had a ring with the same symbol?" Draco asked, holding the small bag up to the light that shafted through the bare tree limbs of the forest. What did it all mean? He said, "I really wish someone hadn't killed Violet Edgewater now, not only for to obvious reasons, but because she could really help us out with this case."

"That's probably why she died, because she talked with us," Hermione said sadly. "I just realized that, because she didn't have any jewelry, she wasn't young like the other girls, so she was probably only killed because of us. Oh, Draco. It's my fault really, solely mine. You didn't even want to talk with her. I insisted."

She lowered her head, almost reverently. Draco reached over and stroked her hair away from her face, his fingertips trails down the crown of her head to her jaw as he did. She looked up at him as he said, "Don't blame yourself, Hermione. It won't do. I won't let you." She shivered. "Are you cold?" She nodded, though they both knew her shiver was more from remorse than from cold. He placed his arm around her, really for comfort, but she could pretend that it was for warmth, and he could know it was to console her.

"We have to find the other bodies, Draco, and we have to find out what this symbol means. I think I can get a trace of the type of metal used in all the jewelry, and perhaps we can try to find the other missing girls that way, if the bodies have similar jewelry on that is," she said. "It's some sort of pewter mixed with sterling silver. I've never seen the mixture before."

He smiled at her and said, "You're a genius." He said it softly, deferentially, and he meant it sincerely. He leaned closer, smelled her sweet scent, and it nearly knocked him for a loop. He wanted to kiss her so badly that it sent his senses whirling. "That's a perfect way to try to find these other girls, except, this is a large forest, and we don't even know if they were killed or buried here." He stood up and offered her his hand. He pulled her up and said, "We don't even know if Jennifer was originally buried here, and we don't even know where Sandra and Catherine were killed."

"I thought we were acting under the supposition that they were killed in the chamber. We might be able to pull enough magical DNA from the chamber, and compare it with the girls' DNA, and we might be able to recreate a sort of magical prototype, to recreate the crime scene. We already know they were there, but we need to know if they were killed there, and their dead bodies might have the killer's DNA on it, too, so if we take that DNA, mixed with theirs, we might be able to determine if they were killed there."

Draco was listening to her intently, even though he was once again on his knees, looking at the disturbed ground where Jennifer's body was found. Hermione said, "I know I tend to rattle on and on, but I'm talking about important things right now, Draco. You need to pay attention and listen to me."

"I am, princess, come here, though," he said. He held out his hand. She walked over to his, grasped his hand, and he pulled her down next to him. He pointed to the tree next to the now empty grave.

Hermione gasped. "Draco, you might have found an easier way for us to find the other bodies."

He had seen it earlier, but he hadn't made the connection until now. This was what he had been looking for, but hadn't realized until now. There, on the tree, carved in the bark, was the exact same symbol as on the earrings.

Draco looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. He stood before Hermione stood. "Good morning," Milo said as he and Iver approached.

Hermione stood while Draco greeted Milo with a curt nod. Hermione, who had not seen the man since their kiss last night, turned away without saying a word. "Working hard?" his brother said from behind him.

"We found a connection of sorts, well, Granger found it," Draco said. Hermione was busy saying a spell over the symbol on the tree.

Milo stood behind her and he said, "What, the symbol for our clan?"

Hermione turned to face him so fast that she lost her balance, and Milo was forced to reach for her elbow to support her before she fell. She stumbled against the tree, and said, "That symbol is the symbol for your clan?"

"Yes, all clans are represented by symbols, and that's ours," he said. Hermione took a deep breath and looked at Draco.

Milo looked from Hermione to Draco and then asked, "Why?"

Instead of answering, Hermione went over to the backpack, pulled out the earrings, and handed them to Milo. "Have you seen these before?"

He stared at them and said, "No, but I imagine that they were made in the village. One can buy such trinkets from any of the local artisans. Were these found on one of the bodies?"

Iver stepped around Draco and took the earrings from his brother to examine. Draco said, "They were, and all of the bodies were found with similar jewelry, which is more than coincidental, especially as none of these girls were from this village, and they were all Muggle-borns."

Iver handed them back to Hermione and said, "Those are old, they aren't mere trinkets made by a local artisan and sold in some village store. I can tell by the metal used."

Milo gave Iver a disconcerted look, but Iver said, "Look at the back. They have the clan's English symbols on them. Those symbols aren't to be shared, and no local artisan would recreate jewelry with such symbols."

Milo took the earrings back from Hermione and looked at the back. "Do you have the other jewelry, from the other girls?"

"Not with me, but back at the castle, yes," she said.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He said, "This isn't good." He signed, then turned to Draco and said, "Perhaps you and I should go talk to some of the village elders, and the other clan leaders."

"I want to go," Hermione said.

Milo turned to her, and placed his hand on her arm. Draco took a step closer, frowning that Milo was once again touching her, but didn't say anything as Milo said, "You can't go. I'm so sorry, but as I said before, we are a patriarchal system, and they won't talk to females. It's not my way, but theirs, but more than that, you're an outsider."

"I thought this village was founded by both Veela and Vampire, females and males. Anyway, Malfoy's an outside, too," she complained.

"I hate to keep saying this, but he really isn't." He turned to Malfoy and said, "Your Veela heritage can be traced back to Kristina's sister. I'm shocked that I know this, and that you don't, but it's true. You don't come from the Valdes, but you do come from the Veela of this area."

Draco didn't look particularly shocked. In fact, Hermione thought he looked somewhat embarrassed, as if he had been caught in a lie, or as if he was caught doing something bad. He looked down at the ground, and kicked at some leaves with the toe of his boot.

Hermione stepped around Milo and said, "You knew this already, didn't you. This is why you came with me, not because you were an expert on Veela, but because of your connection to these people."

He couldn't lie to her any longer, so he said, "Maybe. It doesn't matter why I came. I'm an Auror on a case, and that's all that matters, nothing else."

"Go with Milo." She seemed angry and absolute. She turned to Iver and said, "Will you take me once more to the castle? I have a few more things to uncover there, and Draco doesn't wish me to go by myself."

Iver merely nodded, but not before looking to his brother for approval. Draco took Hermione's arm and took her aside. "Listen, I know you see Milo's little confession as another piece of information that I kept from you, but I really didn't see how it was pertient information. It didn't matter where my Veela heritage came from, did it, especially as it's so diluted, and since I'm not a Valdes."

"You're delusional, Draco," she said. "It matters a lot, or else you would have told me. First you kept the whole mate thing from me, and now this. Don't keep anything else from me, please." She stared up at him and she really didn't know what else to say. She knew she couldn't make demands on him, after all, what were they to each other, really? They hadn't even gone out on a date yet. That reminded her. "Don't get hurt or killed tonight. We have a date, you know."

"Yes, and if I get killed, that will seriously mar our good time," he said with sarcasm. He said, "Am I permitted to kiss you goodbye in front of these two?"

"As long as you're doing it for me and you, and not as some display of ownership," she spat back.

"Well now that you're being snippy, I don't think I want to kiss you," he joked.

"Who said I want you to kiss me?" she spat.

"Well then, no kiss for Hermione Granger," he said lightly. He started to walk away, but she grabbed his arm.

"Hey," she complained. "Remember, kisses hello and goodbye are important to me." She held her mouth in a slight pout, which he thought was almost funny.

"If they're important, by all means," he said. Without regards to either men watching, and he knew that they were because the hair on the back of his neck was standing up, and the tendons and muscles in his arms were coiled tightly, he brushed his fingertips lightly down her face. He realized that he wanted to say a thousand things to her, but now was not the time or place. "But you're the only important thing to me. Stay safe, stay alert, and stay alive."

He pulled her tightly into his arms. "Don't leave me," he added, though he thought it sounded stupid and dramatic the moment he said it. Hermione had no reply, but her body grew lax in the confines of his arm, soft, supple, and warm in the cold, late autumn air. A soft sigh escaped her lips, telling him all he needed to know, and though it was barely audible, he heard it, he devoured it, he would remember it and commit that little sigh to memory.

His lips found hers, taking away his own fear, replacing it with desire. She tasted like every good dream he had ever had, and every moment of happy and bliss he had ever experience. He didn't deepen the kiss, not because he didn't want to, but because their first real kiss, their first intimate, all knowing kiss, would not be in the middle of the forest, in front of these two men. He hoped it would be on the tower tonight, after their date. He hoped that tonight he could show her how well he knew her, since he didn't get the chance to show her last night.

He released her, reluctantly, and said, "Go now." She slipped from his arms, leaving him feeling empty, bereft, almost lonely. She started up the path, Iver ahead of her, but when she turned back, he was still watching her.

When they were out of sight, Milo said, "You don't want her at the old castle alone?"

"No," he said plainly. He looked over at the other man.

"You also don't want her there with you, do you?" he said.

Draco had so many things he wanted to say to this other man, but each one sounded more immature and juvenile than the last, so he said nothing. Milo said, "It's understandable. Do you know what that chamber was used for, Malfoy?"

"What?"

"Mating rituals," Milo explained. "And the ancient rituals were sometimes brutal and barbaric, but they were between sometime brutal and barbaric people. They were outlawed even before my great-grandfather's time." Milo started walking and Draco followed. "You know you wear your emotions on your sleeve, don't you?"

"What?' Draco stopped walking.

Milo turned around and said, "If you really wanted to keep her safe, you wouldn't have brought her here. You should keep her at the castle tomorrow, and then arrange for her to go back to London."

"I can't tell Granger what to do," Draco said, although he wished he could. "She has a mind, a big mind, of her own. Also, leave my emotions out of things. You don't know anything about them."

"I will if you will," Milo spat. Draco stepped ahead of him on the path and Milo said, "One more thing, Malfoy."

Draco turned around sharply and almost yelled, "What now?"

"If you don't claim her soon, there are others who will. Her blood scent is so unique, so strong, and it's out there now, and it has attracted other competitors, others besides myself," he explained in that monotone way of his.

"Yes, I heard of your little kiss last night. She told me," Draco said, wanting the man to know that Hermione confided in him.

"I knew she would. That was the point," Milo said snidely. "That was the first step. I have to make you see that you need to do something, either way, and quickly. The others won't wait long. They caught her scent the day she entered our village, due to the bloodloss from the gunshot wound. To the other clan members, she is an open claim, due to the fact that she is an outsider who has not yet been bound to another."

"Is she safe with Iver? Now?" Draco asked, worried.

"She's safe because I've deemed her to be so," Milo said, although Draco though Milo seemed a bit worried also.


	21. Chapter 21 A Vampire and A Violent Act

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 21: A Vampire and a Violent Act:**

There was a haunting, loneliness to Iver, Hermione had decided. There was something about him that reminded her of Remus Lupin, bound by duty, ruled by fate, trapped by sadness and isolation. She wanted to find out more about this old castle, but she also wanted to find out more about this man, for his sake.

"I think I'm done in the room," Hermione said, walking out of the cavity only a short time after entering. Iver was waiting for her at the bottom to the staircase at the end of the long corridor. He had told her he would wait for her there, and she didn't ask him why, she accepted it as it was.

"Did you find what you needed?" he asked, coming to stand beside her.

"I think I did. May I ask you a few more questions?" she asked.

He didn't say yes right away. "My brother doesn't want me talking to you about our people."

"That's very to the point," she said. "He pretty much warned me against talking to you about all of this as well."

Iver gave her another sad smile and said, "It's just, we aren't to talk to outsiders. It's preordained by old magic. We can't, unless the head of our clan gives us permission, and that would be Milo. No permission, no talking. I'm so sorry, Hermione. I want to help you, but I think Milo is afraid I'll be dragged into this somehow," Iver explained. He motioned with his hand that she should start up the stairs. She remained by the wall at the bottom step instead.

"He wants to protect you, but why?" she said, more to herself.

"I'm his baby brother," Iver said with a chuckle. "He's always protected me.

"Can you at least tell me about your illness?" she asked.

"I, well, no, I can't," he stuttered. "Hermione, I'll help you, take you places, explain about our people without getting specific, but I'm limited in what I can do. I do apologize."

"Did you meet any of the girls that were murdered?" she asked.

"Hermione, I can't talk with you about these things!" he said, his voice showing a hint of despair, and dare she think, anger.

"I'm sorry, Iver," Hermione said, also with a bit of ire. "Go on back to the castle. I still have some more work to do, and I don't want to take up any more of your time."

"Don't be that way," Iver said, "and you know I can't leave you here."

"Why not? I'll be safe. I can take care of myself. Believe it or not, I'm very capable of taking care of myself, and I've never needed a man to protect me. Go," she said. She turned back around, walked back down the narrow, dim corridor, and entered back into the large chamber, though her work was already done. He knocked on the door jam, and poked his head inside.

"Hermione, I am sorry," he said. "I know you're a strong woman, and I meant no disrespect. I know you can take care of yourself, it's just that my brother is worried about you."

"I suppose you can't tell me why," she said sarcastically.

He smiled, leaned against the old wooden doorframe and said, "He thinks that some of the men of the other clans are going to soon start staking claims for you." He continued to smile.

"Staking claims?" she said, aghast. "Well, no one claims Hermione Granger!"

He laughed and said, "I know. I'm sorry. It must sound terribly old-fashioned and antediluvian."

"Why would anyone want to claim me?" she said, wondering aloud. She came to stand by the doorway.

He laughed again, and then he reached out for her. He touched her hand slowly, but not in a romantic way. He touched her as a man who needed contact, who needed a friend, who needed a human connection. "Why indeed?" he said. "Malfoy seems to want to claim you, no matter how much he may deny it. I also happen to know that though Milo doesn't think you're his mate, he's smitten with you. If I didn't have my sweet, dear Cat, I might find myself smitten as well." His smile brightened more, and in the soft light of the torches on the wall, Hermione saw how very handsome and kind his face was.

She squeezed his hand and said, "Cat is very lucky to have you."

"As Malfoy is very lucky to have you, if only he knew it," he said with a sigh.

"From your lips to his ears," Hermione lamented. They both laughed.

"If you truly have more work, I'll wait for you right here by the door, but if you only came back in here because you were angry with me, then I suggest we go back to Rhodeana."

She took out another piece of parchment and proceeded to copy a rune that she had already copied the first day. She ignored him, because she was embarrassed that he had figured out that she only came back into the chamber because she was angry. She sat down on one of the larger rock formations on the ground, and drew the backpack on her lap, to give her a place to put the paper while she copied the runes.

Iver walked in the room slowly. "I haven't been in here since I was a child. I always hated this room."

She looked up, having just noticed that he had entered. "Why?"

"Dark magic was used in this room," he said. "It was used as a mating room, but for other things, too. Dark, sinister things."

"I don't suppose I can ask you what those things were, right?" she asked, with disdain.

He smiled and said, "My mother was of the Day people, did you know?"

"That's some way to change the subject," she laughed. "Okay, tell me again about the Day and Night," she pressed, turning on the small rock to face him. She placed the bag at her feet, stuck the paper inside, then she said, "Or can you not tell me about that, either?"

"I don't know a lot about the origins of the terms Day and Night, but I suppose I can tell you what I do know, because it's in that book of folklore you have anyway, so you'll find out soon enough. You see, my mother was not a Valdes. She was from the village of Dorchester. She wasn't even my father's mate originally. He had his mate dream when he was an adolescent, but then he met my mother one day when he went to Dorchester, and it was love at first sight."

"Love can rule over the power of finding a true mate? Don't Valdes love their mates?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, they do, almost absolutely, so it was a shock to my grandparents when my father, who was set to be the prime, or the clan leader someday, decided to marry a descendent of the Day people," Iver said.

"The terms originally pertained to those with pure Veela blood, Day people, as opposed to those with pure Vampire blood, Night people. The original Veela, or so the story went, couldn't venture out in the night, and you know Vampires had an adversity to daytime." He came to sit on a small rock beside her.

"Well, when the first Veela and the first Vampire mated, they shared blood, thus reversing the curse of each of their races. Veela could then go out in the night, and Vampires wouldn't burn at the sight of the sun. In addition, their children, the very first Valdes, had the best of both worlds. They had the magic of both, the qualities of both, but the traits and temperaments of both, as well."

"But how did the term stick?" Hermione asked.

"Legend has it that Kristina had seven sisters. She and six others married vampires, thus forming the Valdes and our present seven clans. The last sister, the eighth one, the youngest, married a regular wizard. All of these people lived harmonious in the beginning, until some great battle and I don't know what the battle was over, but it had to do with the vampires and the taking of blood." Iver stood up and walked over toward one of the walls before he continued.

Leaning against one of the stone walls he said, "Some great schism was caused, and the purely magical groups, the ones with no vampire ancestors, left Glendora. One group formed Dorchester, some three hundred years ago. It was the smallest group, and it has mostly died out. The other groups splintered off and went elsewhere, one group to the Netherlands, one group to what was then known as Prussia and one group to France, which is Malfoy's Veela line."

"I wonder what really caused the battle and the split," she said. "I'm sure it had to do with good verses evil, light verses dark, etc, etc. All good stories do." She smiled at him and stood up. "Thanks for telling me this, Iver."

He smiled back. Then, at that precise moment, all the wall torches extinguished. "That's strange," Iver said. "We best head toward the door." He held his hand out for Hermione, and she almost took it, when the door, inexplicably, slammed shut, enveloping them in total darkness.

Hermione gasped. Iver called out to her, but she didn't answer. She tried to find her wand in the darkness, but realized that she left it in the backpack, which was on the floor somewhere.

"Stay put, Hermione," Iver said.

"Do you have your wand," she asked hopefully.

"Of course," he answered. She heard him curse. "Damn, no. I don't know where it is. It should be in my pocket. Where's yours?"

"In the backpack, in the middle of the room, wherever that is," she moaned. She had never felt so disoriented. After a long moment of silence, Hermione said, "Stay where you are. I'm coming to find you." She knew that she was in the middle of the room. She knew that he was by the wall. She started taking small steps, her arms out in front of her, cold, stale air assaulting her senses, and she felt a wave of nausea and foreboding pass through her, which she recognized immediately as fear.

She found a wall, and trailing one hand against the smooth stone, she stumbled toward where she assumed he was. She could hear him breathing. She heard a loud crack, the sound reverberating though the stagnant air, startling her, causing her to gasp and she asked, "What was that?"

"Wasn't that you?" he asked. Then he said, "Is someone else there? Who's there?"

She stayed by the wall, panic gripping her, stirring her senses. Squaring her shoulders, she said, "I'm going to go back toward the middle of the chamber and find my wand."

She started walking away from the wall, hands again in front of her, but then the unthinkable happened: she tripped on one of the rock formations on the floor. She fell hard, unable to brace herself. She cried out in pain and fear.

"Hermione? Are you alright?" Iver asked anxiously.

"I fell." Worse than that, the hand that she had previously injured, the hand that Draco had healed after he had tasted her blood, was once again bleeding. She also had incredible pain in her right knee, and her elbow hurt.

"Are you bleeding?" he asked, his voice laced with even more caution.

"How can you tell?" she asked back.

"I smell it Hermione! Oh no, are you? Please, tell me that you're not!" he asked.

"Yes, I am. I busted open my hand again, the one that I lacerated, and I can't stand up because my knee is hurt and swollen," she complained.

"Oh no, oh no," Iver chanted softly. "Your blood. I smell it. Hermione, I can't, I mean, please, you don't know." He sank down to the floor, and covered his nose with his hand. "Hermione, my illness, the one that affects certain family members, it's a form of vampirism. I crave blood, and when I don't get it, I get terribly sick. I mean, all members of our clans crave blood to some degree, from both their Veela and their Vampire ancestors, although the taking of blood and vampirism has been outlawed for centuries, but there's a mutated gene that's passed on through the male of two of our clans, and it causes the traits of vampirism. I have it."

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"It means that someone locked you in here with a vampire who very soon won't be able to control his bloodlust. You better find your wand, because you're going to need it," he said urgently.

"Oh no, is right," Hermione repeated his sentiment from earlier, her voice a mere whisper in the air. She crawled along the floor, dragging her hurt knee, reaching out continually for her bag. Her fingertips met only air and the smooth surface of the granite floor. "I can't find it. Where is it?" she asked frantically.

She searched and searched to no avail. She wasn't sure where she was any longer, she couldn't hear Iver breathing, and she was afraid to ask him where he was. There was nothing as terrifying to Hermione as being plunged in total darkness. She couldn't remember the last time she felt this much fear and dread. She wondered if Draco would be able to feel her fear. She was sealed in a dark tomb, away from the rest of the world, imprisoned in her own despair, with a man who told her that he might not be able to help it if he attacked her.

"Hermione?" he finally asked. She was afraid to answer, although she knew that even in the darkness, he could find her. "Are you okay?"

"Are you?" she asked.

"I think so. It's hard. I want you so bad. It's so hard. I've never had to fight it this hard before. Your blood is so strong and sweet. It's so different. I can't explain it. I've never smelled anything so intoxicating before," he said with a wince. "Now I know what Milo sees in you." Hermione could almost hear the pain in the tone of voice. She cringed.

Her fear sang loud in her heart, alerting her that she may die soon, and that she didn't want to die, at least not like this. She suddenly had a terrible thought. "Iver, did you kill those girls?"

"NO!" He seemed outraged. "NO! I don't ever act on this! Ever! I never have taken human blood without consent, I swear! When I was young, my brother and I would hunt animals and he would help me feed off them, and twice he let me feed off his own blood, but since then, I feed off volunteers, or I don't feed at all. I know, I'm an animal. I know it's wrong. I know I'm repulsive!" He seemed thoroughly disgusted with himself. "I can't even marry my darling Cat because of my illness, because she doesn't know about it, and because I might hurt her. It's all hopeless!"

Hermione wondered if this was the way in which Draco had felt when he was compelled to taste her blood. Did he feel this self-disgust, this vulgar sense of self-loathing? If Draco was from the Veela line, and not the Vampire line, then why did he have such a strong bloodlust? "You can't help it if you're inflicted with an illness," she said, thinking once again of Draco, and then thinking again of Remus Lupin. "I had a very dear friend who was a werewolf, and he was conflicted, because he hated that side of him, though he had no control over it."

"Did he feel like an animal? Did he feel like a failure?" he asked.

"Yes, often times he did," she said sadly.

Hermione heard him moan, and then she heard the rustling of clothing. "I can't breathe in here."

"There's plenty of air, just calm down, and perhaps Milo and Draco will come for us soon," she urged.

"I have to get out of here!" No sooner had he spoken those words than she felt radiated warmth beside her body. Her fingers twitched at her sides, and the hair on her neck stood on edge. She smelled him, and she knew that he smelled her as well. He loomed over top of her one moment, and then he shifted beside her and the next thing she knew, she was pressed against the floor, and he was on top of her, the weight of his body pressing hard on hers, his breath fanning against her neck.

"Please, no, Iver," she said in a shaky voice.

"I have to, Hermione," he said. "Just a taste. I can stop myself, I promise. Just give me your hand." He seemed desperate. Each word spoken was frantic, quick and hurried. He reached between their bodies for her hand.

She began to cry, cursing every tear, because at that point they were tears laced with anger, more than with fear. She didn't want to die in a dark dungeon. She didn't want to suffer as those poor girls suffered. She didn't want to die without telling Draco that she thought she loved him.

She pushed against his body even as she screamed, but the next thing she knew she was groping at thin air, at the same time she saw a shaft of light, as the door to the chamber opened, and she heard two bodies collide. She was jerked back toward a wall, but then she felt something, (someone?) touch her, warmly, reverently, with love.

Time stood still, as her breathing almost stopped. Her fear palpable, real. She placed her face against the person who had placed their arms around her. She heard growling and the worst sort of crying and keening sound coming from the center of the room.

Draco told her, "Keep your eyes shut, Granger. Don't look."

She didn't want to look. She didn't want to know what was happening. She stiffened when the sound subsided.

"What happened?" she asked, tears falling freely down her cheeks and onto his jacket.

Draco couldn't explain what he couldn't understand. All he knew was that Milo and he had gone to the village, had spoken to two of the village elders, had gotten permission to excavate some old caves that were once used by the clans for rituals, and on their way back to the forest, Milo suddenly started running.

Sensing Milo's fear, Draco followed, when Draco was then faced with his own fear…only Draco's fear wasn't his own. He knew, deep in his heart, that the fear he was feeling was Hermione's fear. He screamed her name, and Milo took flight, as he became a large falcon to fly over the canopy of trees.

Draco was forced to continue running, until his legs were like lead, his chest constricted from the cold autumn air, palms sweating, and his pulse quick. He ran into the dungeons of the charred castle just as Milo swooped down, changing back into a man. Draco ran into the chamber and pulled Hermione into his arms. After that, he wasn't even sure what he had witnessed, because the room was still mostly washed in darkness, but he had entered right after Milo, and then he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Milo had fought his own brother to protect Hermione. He knew that they both become some sort of birds, or monsters, or something, and they fought, and it was scary, and magical, and wondrous, and unreal.

Then both men where gone, and he was left alone with her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed herself closer. He stroked her hair. "What happened, Hermione? We started back into the forest to look for you, and then suddenly Milo started to run, and then I swear I felt that you were afraid, and I started to run, and then I heard you scream."

Hermione hadn't remembered screaming, but she supposed that she had. She was about to tell him what happened, when she noticed that Draco had her hand. Though one small shaft of light came from the opened doorway, and his face was in the dark, she could tell that his eyes were focused on her hand and the blood.

"Iver suffers from Vampirism," she said, watching him intently. She tried to pull her hand from his, but he held tight.

Draco closed his eyes. Then he said a silent pray, a request, a plea, more like a benediction, and though it was silent, she knew he was uttering it and it broke her heart. Her blood was tempting him just as it had tempted Iver, and she began to push against him with her hands, his pale fingers reaching back toward hers, to bring her hand back to his face.

He took a giant whiff and she kicked at him with her good leg and said, "Get control of yourself, Draco Malfoy!"

"What darkness is this?" he said aloud. Who was she that she had such power over him, to make him want to commit such dark, deeply depraved acts. He wasn't a vampire! Why was he suffering from this horrendous want? Hermione had almost been a victim of something truly horrifying, and then he witnessed something equally horrifying when the brothers fought, and yet here he was, imaging doing atrocious things to her!

Swallowing hard he backed away from her, and fought hard for control. She was something precious to him, something he cherished and loved, and yet he was fighting for the control _not to rape her_, _not to drink her blood_, and not to take her right there. He was fighting for control over the desire for her blood and body verses the desire to keep her safe.

He stood up, and though the room was still mostly black, she saw something feral in his eyes. He didn't have the restraint needed to stay in this room one moment longer. He said, "Can you stand on your own?"

"Just go," she barked, confused, upset, and weary. Instead, he rushed to her and she screamed again. The sound ripped through him, bringing him back to reality, like a splash of cold water.

He stopped short, looked down at her, and the fear in her eyes, and he said, "I wasn't going to hurt you! You know I wouldn't hurt you!" Even as he said it, he wasn't convinced that it was the truth. He reached down slowly, and she flinched, but she let him take her arm, trusting him. That was her mistake.

He swung her up against him abruptly, and she was unable to stand on both legs because of her dislocated knee. He grasped her injured hand tightly in one of his, his other hand went up and grabbed the back of her hair. He pulled hard on her hair, tilting her head upwards, as he placed her injured hand to his nose.

"Draco! Let me go!" she hissed. She hit at him, kicked at him and even tried to bite his shoulder.

He placed his lips next to the skin on her neck, her natural scent mixing with the scent of her blood, and it was exciting and intoxicating and embroiled his senses. Their faces were centimeters apart, and she felt as if she was standing on the edge of a precipice, about to be pushed off by him. She hit him as hard as she could on his ear, with her fist, and he howled.

"Hermione, stop that," he said, coming slightly to his right mind. He held her by her waist.

She felt desperate, and she latched onto that ardent, keen, tiny moment of sanity he displayed and said, "Draco, please, don't hurt me!"

He was almost at the edge of all rational thought, but that one request, along with the trepidation in her voice, caused him to drop her abruptly. She tumbled to the hard ground by his feet.

She began to back away from him when Milo ran in the doorway, pushed Draco aside, said some sort of curse word in another language, which neither Hermione nor Draco understood, and he scooped Hermione into his arms. He looked at Draco with a reproachful look and said, "Get control of yourself and then get her things!"

He started up the stairs with her tightly in his arm. Draco grabbed her bag and followed, in a daze. Once at the top of the stairs, Milo said, "Help my brother, Malfoy. I'll have to take her, because she's bleeding too severely, and I'm afraid it will cause others to come. I'll disapparate with her, but you'll have to walk with him." He pointed his head toward one of the broken columns in the old castle's former Great Hall. Iver sat on the ground next to it, a crumbled, bloody mess. It was apparent that the fight among the brothers was a severe one, and the Milo had won.

Draco helped Iver to his feet, and watched as Milo stepped out of the carcass of the old castle with Hermione in his arms. Her face was tucked in the other man's chest, yet right before they disapparated away, she lifted her face, reached out her hand toward Draco, her eyes pleading with him, beseeching him. Forgiving him.

If only it was that easy for him to forgive himself.

* * *

_A/N: Iver is a vampire...Iver is a vampire. Did anyone of you know? I wondered if anyone suspected. I also wonder who the murderer is, though, if it isn't him, or is it him? I can't tell you yet, because we are only on chapter 21, and this little fic is not going to be so little. I have it outlined for close to 40 chapters. Goodness. Sorry. I hope you all stay interested, and keep with me! I also hope you appreciate the fact that this was the longest chapter so far! 'You're Welcome' in advance. Now tell me 'Thank you'._


	22. Chapter 22 A Dream and a Reality

_A/N: A slight warning for this chapter…I have never written a scene in any of my stories that glorifies rape or out and out abuse of women, and I never will. That being said, the first part of this chapter has a strong warning because it has a scene of rape, which I tried to handle without too much graphic detail, and in which I hope does not offend anyone._

_This story seems like it is getting darker, but their date is still coming up, so that's something in which to look forward! _

_Just for the record, my beta thought this was the best chapter yet. Thanks to her. She is ill right now, (very ill, not just a cold or something) but she is still finding the time to beta my story, so thanks and hugs to Kel!_

* * *

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 22: A Dream and a Reality:**

_Draco ran his hands down Hermione's body as she cried and fought against him. Though he was excited, he could tell that he repulsed her, repelled her, and instead of making him ashamed, it made him angry, which made him desire her even more. He pulled her violently toward him, because he didn't care if she was afraid, and he didn't care if she was revolted, he only cared about his own want, his own arousal, his fingers on her flesh, his mouth against hers._

_He took a handful of her hair and pulled her head backwards so that her neck was exposed. He inhaled her scent, buried his head in the crook of her neck, parted his lips, and gave into the hunger and yearning. He bit down hard, drawing blood, and he sucked it in, desire sweeping him higher and higher._

_"I want you so much, Hermione," he growled. She cried, and fought against him, and it incensed him, and provoked him even more. He ripped her nightgown in two, pulling it off her body, exposing her swell of breasts to his mouth and gaze. He licked his way across the tops, even as he pulled the gown down her arms._

_She slithered from his grasp, running for the door, but he was quicker, and he caught her. He slammed the door shut even as he pushed her against the back of the door. He spun her around. _

_"Stay away from me!" she yelled. _

_He reared back his hand and hit her across the face, so that she would just be quiet. He wanted her! Couldn't she see that? His lust was fierce, and was all jumbled up with his frustration and anger. He felt every emotion tenfold, he did not understand why she did not understand what he wanted, and why she didn't feel the way he did. Why was she still so afraid? She wanted this too! He knew she did._

_He dug his fingers into her upper arms, even as she kicked at his shins, and yelled and screamed. He turned her around and pulled her into the middle of the bedchamber. He yanked her head back again, even as he held her tighter against him. He kissed her so hard that he drew blood on her bottom lip, and then he licked away the blood. She wrestled free one hand and dragged her nails down his face, drawing his blood, which made him want her more than she could imagine. _

_He felt wild and insatiable. His clothes soon joined her torn nightgown on the floor, and somehow, they were suddenly in the chamber of the old castle. He backed her against the door to that room, even as she continued to beg him to stop. Her skin showed the signs of his cruelty…it was red from his kisses, bruised from his hands, bleeding from his brutality._

_He picked her up and threw her on the hard floor, incredibly aroused. He joined her, his body enveloping hers as she pushed against his shoulders, and cried out in pain and anguish, but it fueled him even further. He was beyond all reason. His hands went from her breasts, to her waist, to her hips. Then he positioned himself at her opening, parting her legs with his own and he impaled her without warning, his mouth moving mercilessly across hers. He was vicious, mindless, intense, moved by violence, not love, not passion, nothing but desire and want. He plunged into her with sadistic, hard, angry strokes, seeking satisfaction, oblivious to her cries of pain._

_When he was almost done, his anger ebbed away from exhaustion and overwhelming pleasure, he still felt empty, deprived, depleted, and he didn't know why. He instinctively looked down at her, but it was as if she was no longer under him._

_She was so still. Her hesitation, her paralyzing fear caused him to stop completely. His arousal ceased, as if someone had stabbed him with a knife. He looked down at her pale face, tears streaking her cheeks, eyes turned away from him, and he suddenly felt ashamed. He was still inside her, but he said her name, "Hermione." He said it again. "Hermione, are you afraid of me?"_

_She looked up at him, and then, she shivered. She melted away, and he was alone._

_

* * *

_

Draco woke up with a start, confused and afraid. He looked out the window and saw that it was still light out, though it was late afternoon, and had begun to rain. He sat up with sweat on his brow and upper lip. He placed his feet firmly on the floor and tried very hard NOT to think of the nightmare he had just had. It was to no avail. He stood up, went over to the trash bin in the corner of the room, and vomited.

Then he sat on the floor, and cried, still confused, and still very much afraid.

Hermione sat in the window seat of the tower room, and she cried. She felt confused, and for some reason, afraid. She had been sitting in the same position for the last half an hour. When she first returned from the old castle, Milo had insisted that she see a Healer, which she had. Then he had insisted that she have some lunch, which she did. Then he had insisted that she have a bath, which she did.

Then she had insisted that he leave her alone, which he did. After her bath, she wandered down the long corridor from the bathroom, past the door of her bedroom, past the door of Draco's bedroom, and stopped. She wondered if he was inside. She placed her hand on the flat wood and was about to knock, but inexplicably, did not. Instead, she went to the tower room on the third floor and decided to work on the case.

This was where she was, except she hadn't gotten any work done. Instead, she picked up the book of folklore and began to read. After reading two of the stories, she sat down on the circular window seat of the turret and that was where she remained. It had begun to rain, and she was watching raindrops race each other down the wavy glass of the old, tall, thick-paned windows.

She didn't know what else to do.

Draco walked into the office, saw her in the turret, sitting on the window seat, and he almost turned around and walked away. She had her hand on the cold glass, her fingertips following the path of a raindrop. Her hair was still slightly damp, as if she had just taken a shower, and the room was cold, the glass of the window, foggy. He knew that she had heard him walk into the room, though she had yet to face him.

This was good; because he wasn't sure that he could face her. He didn't know what to do. He was afraid of hurting her again, yet somehow, here at Rhodeana castle, away from the evilness of that chamber in the old castle, he felt safer, so he knew that she was safer. He walked closer to her and, finally, he said, "Your hair is still damp. Did you take a bath?"

"Yes, I did. You're _so_ observant," she said, while not even looking at him. She continued to look at the rain.

He stood close to where she sat, touched the window with his fingertip and he said, "Five sickles that the raindrop under my finger reaches the bottom before the one under your finger."

She looked up at him and said, "You're on, Malfoy."

They both removed their fingers from the window and watched their own raindrops as they traveled down the glass on the other side, each one merging with others on their trek down the frosty glass. Then, in a cruel sense of irony, or a cruel sense of fate, the two dueling raindrops merged into one before either could win the race. The merged drops reached the bottom of the glass, and then went to places unknown.

"I guess no one wins," Hermione said.

"Just my luck," Malfoy said. "I could use those five sickles, too." He sat on the other side of the turret's window seat, as far from her as he could, his recent dream fresh in his mind. "How's your knee?"

"Fine, the Healer fixed it right up, as well as my hand." Hermione looked at her hand, but didn't show it to him.

"Do you know how Iver is doing?" Draco asked.

"I don't know. I'm worried about him, but I don't know," she answered. "I asked Milo, and all he would tell me was not to worry."

He sighed, and then said, "I just wrote an Owl to Harry Potter. I asked him to relieve us both from the case. We are to return to London the day after tomorrow, and then I asked him to send two other Aurors. Milo's agreed to it."

She moved her legs from the window seat, and leaned toward him and said, "You had no right! You can't decide these things for me! If you want to give up, give up, but I'm staying."

"You aren't," he said. "We aren't. I told Potter everything. I think Iver is our prime suspect, and he's probably going to be arrested, so there's not much of a case left anyway."

"You're a fool if you think Iver is the murderer," she said, but she said it without malice. She stood up and walked over to the table. She sat down, picked up a book and said, "Come here a minute."

"No," he snapped.

"Just come here," she said. "I want to show you something. It's been bothering me, and I just want to show it to you."

He stood up and shouted, "NO! It's over. Stop looking for more clues. Iver is the killer and we're getting the hell away from here!"

He stormed toward the door, but to his surprise, she was right behind him and she had slammed the door shut as soon as he opened it. He whipped around to look at her and he said, "What are you doing? Don't slam doors shut when I open them!"

Hermione rolled her eyes and said, "Doesn't feel good, does it?"

"Granger, we are not having this conversation," he began, then he placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away from him, "and frankly, you are standing a bit too close."

"Too close?" she argued.

"Yes, a bit too close!" he snapped back.

"How are we going to have a date tonight if I can't stand next to you?" she spat.

He drooped against the door, his back against it, shocked. "You still want to go on a date tonight?"

Now she looked shocked. She moved over to the table, leaned against the side, and said, "You don't still want to go on a date tonight?"

He took several steps back into the room and he said, "You were almost killed today!"

She waved one hand in front of her face dismissively and said, "I've been almost killed so many times since our little adventure here began, I can't even count that high. What does that have to do with anything?"

How could he tell her that he was afraid that he might hurt her again?

"What did you want me to see?" he asked. He changed the subject, but she was getting her way, so she didn't seem to mind. She stood from the table, sat in one of the chairs, and pulled over the book of folktales. She fanned through the pages of the opened book and stopped at a story.

She pointed to the title. He leaned over her shoulder and read aloud, "The Lost Prince." He sat in the chair at the end of the table, directly to her right, and pulled the book to him. He began to read. A frown presented itself on his face, and became bigger and bigger. He slammed the book shut after reading only a few pages and said, "So?"

"That story sounds familiar, doesn't it?" she asked. "It could be about you. Prodigal son, unaware of his heritage as the lost prince of one of the clans, comes back to claim what's really his." She took the book back from him and said, "I've been using my time wisely this afternoon, reading a couple of the stories from this book, and I think all of the stories are a bit too coincidental. All of them seem to pertain to us, or to Milo and Iver, to Cat and her father, to Andre and Katrina, even to Milo's parents. A few, by the titles alone, even seem to be about the dead girls."

He leaned back in his chair, the old wood creaking against the added weight on the back legs, and he crossed his feet, placing them on the corner of the table, his hands behind his head. "So what are you saying? Are we fulfilling some sort of destiny or something? Or that I really am Prince Rude?"

She swatted at his feet, pushing them to the floor, and said, "Rude is right."

"What are you trying to say then, Princess?" he asked snidely.

"This book is more like a clue, than a prophecy," she said.

"That book is probably a hundred years old," he said. He grabbed it back from her and he added, "The binding is old and worn, the pages yellowed, and if you look at the publication date in the front," he turned to the front, "it was first published in 1903."

"Exactly, Malfoy, and why was there an old book on Glendora folklore in a bookstore in Dorchester that only had new books?" she asked.

"Maybe it was new at one time, but since everyone at Dorchester hate the people of Glendora, it's been sitting on the shelf for years," he reasoned.

"A hundred years?" she asked. "Come now, this was written by a V. Edgewater, at least that's the author's name. That has to stand for Violet. That's what we assumed in the beginning, remember?"

"Violet was named after a distant relative, apparently, and it was written by her relative," he said, grasping at straws. "There are other names that start with V's. Victor, Victoria, Vivian, Venus, Vincent, Vladimir."

"Vladimir?" she asked. "That's a good vampire name." She smiled. "Seriously Malfoy, this was planted. This isn't an old book, and I bet if I go into the village tomorrow and question some of the elders about the stories in here, they will never have heard about some of them. I bet only the ones on Andre and Katrina are real."

"SO WHAT?" he asked, frustrated. He ran his hands through his hair. "What does a book have to do with anything?" He picked the book up again and tossed it on the floor.

"If someone is toying with evidence, planting false evidence, they might be leading us astray. There might be other false evidence. I want to do some tests on the pages of this book tomorrow, to determine if the parchment is old or not." She leaned down and picked the book up from the floor. She placed it back on the table and said, "Now, what do you have planned for our date tonight."

"Packing. We're packing tonight, so that we can leave the day after tomorrow," he said harshly. He put his feet back up on the table, pushing several of her folders off the table in the process.

"Why are you being surly again?" she asked.

"Surly? That's a new one," he said to himself. He looked at her and said, "Granger, you can take the book back to London, and decipher it, take it apart, and sew it back together, but from London."

"I'm staying," she said softly. "I'm employed by the University, not the Ministry, so neither you nor Harry can dictate to me what I do." She stood up and walked up to his chair. She put her hand on his shoulder. He crossed his arms in front of him, in an obstinate manner, stared at the air in front of his face, and kept his feet crossed on the table. He was trying to ignore her. She let her hand travel up from his shoulder to his hair. She ran her fingers through his hair, and it felt so soft and gentle that he closed his eyes for a moment.

She took hold of his trouser leg, from the leg that was on top of the other leg, and moved it to uncross his legs. She then moved his left leg to the floor, then his right. He moved willingly. Then to his utter shock and amazement, she sat on his lap. "Listen to me, Malfoy. We are on a case, we are onto something, and we are staying. _We_ are staying, not just me, but _we_. I need you here because I need you, not to protect me, and not because I can take care of myself, although this is the point in the argument where I usually make the claim that I can, but apparently I can't take care of myself, but still, we are staying." She laughed. He grimaced and tried to look away.

She grabbed his face with both her hands and forced him to stare at her. He placed his hands on her waist. "I need you here because I need you. As for the other thing, I know what's worrying you, and as long as we stay away from that evil chamber, you won't be tempted to hurt me again. I'll help you control that side of you. I'm not afraid of you, and I know you won't hurt me."

"You don't know that," he said. His voice sounded strangled, strange. "Not all my dark thoughts were while in that room."

"But your dark actions were," she said. Hermione leaned forward, kissed his forehead, and said, "You can control your thoughts."

"Right," he dismissed. "What if I can't?"

"You can."

"But…"

"You can. And I forgive you for what happened, and I forgive Iver. Okay? Now, tell me what you have planned for our date tonight. Something terribly romantic, I hope." She moved her hands from his cheeks to his shoulders.

He wanted to tell her if she kept sitting on his lap like this, there might not be a date tonight, because he would have to spend the whole evening in a cold shower, but instead he said, "We could read your book." He laughed.

"That would nice," she said, seriously.

He shook his head slightly and said, "Only Hermione Granger would want to read a book on a date." He touched her face, tentatively, and leaned forward. He kissed her right cheek and said, "My beautiful girl," he kissed her left cheek and said, "My brave girl," and then he kissed her lips swiftly and said, "My wonderful girl."

"Am I yours, Malfoy?" she asked. She leaned forward in his lap and placed her cheek on his shoulder. Her hair tickled his nose.

"Am I yours?" he asked back, instead of answering.

"Not if you ruin our first date, you aren't," she answered.

"We could have our date right here, right now," he decided. Hermione sat up, braced her hands on his shoulders again, her eyes questioning him, as he added, "Though I have to warn you, I'm not ready to sleep with you. I'm not some strumpet."

"Strumpet?" Hermione laughed. "Fine, let me go change clothes, and you go get our romantic picnic together, and I'll meet you up on top of the tower."

She scrambled from his lap and ran toward the door. She had just pulled it open when he was suddenly behind her and he slammed the door shut. She turned around quickly. He trapped her against the door, his hands on each side of her head. "I'm a proper gentleman, Granger. I'll pick you up at your door, but I _don't _usually read a book on a first day, however, I _do_ usually sleep with the girl on the first date. Those are my conditions. What do you say to that?" He smiled, and raised one eyebrow. His dream from earlier flashed quickly to his mind, but he squashed it down.

"I thought you said you weren't a strumpet, yet you want to sleep with me on the first date?" she said.

"Oh, I must not have known what the word meant," he joked. "What I meant to say was that I only dated strumpets." He placed his forehead next to hers and said in quiet tones, "We can stay, you know. I'll try very hard to keep under control, and I really don't think Iver is the murderer. I just don't want anything to happen to you."

The air between them was strained and unbearably tense. He lifted his hand and ran his knuckles down her cheek. He gently cupped her face with his hands, his thumbs rubbing small circles on her cheeks, and he leaned closer. She spread her hands on his chest right before he kissed her.

This time, it was not just a mere touching of lips, brushing of skin against skin. It was warm and moist, and he pulled and tugged at her bottom lip before he swiped his tongue against the top lip, then the bottom, then she opened her mouth, and he invited himself inside.

His tongue circled against hers, pushing, twirling, engulfing. He spent seconds, practically minutes, with his tongue dancing against hers, his hands around her, but not moving. He moved his mouth so that he rained small kisses across her cheek, even as she rained equally endearing kisses across the planes and valleys of his face. He pressed his lips once more against hers, and then he finally lifted his face. There…he had control. He could kiss her and not take it further. He could kiss her, and not hurt her.

They looked at each other with heavy eyes and then he smiled. She smiled back and said, "You _are_ a strumpet."

He laughed, pulled her away from the door, opened it and then pushed her out of the room before he said, "Damn straight." He watched as she walked away. When she was out of sight, he wrote Harry Potter another note, to tell him that they were staying after all. He only hoped that it was the right decision.


	23. Chapter 23 A Tower and A Tale

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 23: A Tower and a Tale:**

Anxious, with her nerves a bit frayed, Hermione dressed for her date with Draco with great care. She brought one dress, one skirt, as well as one pair of dress slacks, with her to Glendora, but the rest of the clothes she brought were casual and made for work. She had a feeling that the top of the tower would be wet and cold, although they could do something about both of those conditions, and she might feel silly if she dressed up, so she grabbed a nice, deep cranberry colour jumper and a pair of jeans and quickly dressed.

She brushed her hair, deciding to keep it long, and put on a bit of makeup. She started toward the door, to head for his room, when she remembered that Draco had mentioned that he would meet her at her room. Still feeling fretful, and not knowing what time Draco would come for her to take her up to the third floor, she sat down on her bed and opened the book, which she had brought with her to her room.

She had thought it would be funny to bring it on their 'date'. She opened it to the story titled, _Milo and the Maiden Fair_. Though written in the style of a folktale, a story from long ago, it enraptured and enthralled her. It told of a young man, a handsome prince, who walked from village to village, looking for his one true love. However, a curse placed on him at birth by an evil witch made it so that he could never find true love even when it was within his reach, even if he took a lifetime, and traveled to the ends of the earth to search for it, because it had to come to him.

Hermione finished reading this story, which _did _have a happy-ending, because in the story, this Milo finally found love by the form of a maiden who traveled to his own village, looking for him. Hermione couldn't help but wonder if someone was trying to stop this story from coming true by killing outside girls when they came to the village. Was someone aware of this story, and was that person afraid that Milo would finally find his one true love?

Although, if Hermione believed in this story, then she could not believe her own theory that this book was a ruse, a fake, a forgery, planted to throw them off track. She would also have to believe the story about the 'lost prince' from the 'lost Veela clan', which she thought might be about Draco. That story _didn't_ have a happy ending. Draco hadn't read the whole thing, but she had, and in the story, the lost prince became overwhelmed by the pull of his birthright, and he became confused, mixing bloodlust with love and desire, and he tried to kill the only woman that he ever loved, who in the end, killed him instead. She decided that she didn't want Draco to read the end of that story, even if it wasn't about him, because no matter what, it would never come true. Hermione could never kill Draco.

She still thought that this book was written by Violet, made to appear old so that no one would know that she wrote it, but the stories within could still be true. Violet admitted that she couldn't talk about her ancestors because of an ancient curse, so perhaps that was why she wrote this book. Hermione wanted to start tests on the book immediately, to determine its age, but she had a date to go to first. A date with Draco.

How silly. She had a date with her mate. She thought that and smiled. She looked at the clock on the mantle on her fireplace and she decided that she would go to Draco's door, instead of waiting for him to come to hers, because if she had to wait one second longer she might explode!

She went to the door again, but hesitated before opening it. Surely Draco would have come by now. Perhaps he had changed his mind about the date. Perhaps he no longer wanted to pursue that sort of relationship with her. On the other hand, maybe it was something more mundane. Perhaps he had fallen asleep. It could be something horrible. Perhaps he had fallen in the shower, hit his head, and was now unconscious on the bathroom floor.

That last thought was asinine, she knew, but she would use that worry as the reason to go look for him. She tucked the book under her arm, her wand in her pocket, checked her reflection in the mirror one last time, and walked out the door.

Walking along the hallway to his room, she thought about his visceral reaction to her in the chamber earlier, and again about what happened the day before in the forest with her hand. Hermione had promised Draco that she would be the strong one, and she would keep that promise. If he felt the least bit out of control tonight, she would have to stop him; somehow, without threatening whatever it was that they had between them. Thinking these things, she arrived at his room and knocked lightly on the door. When he didn't answer, she placed her hand on the doorknob, turned it to the right, and opened the door slowly, the creaking of the hinges sounding loud and foreboding.

She poked her head in the door, looked around, but there was no one there. There was a lit hurricane light in the corner of the room, on a small table, clothes strewn around the room, the bed pillows rumpled and on the outside of the covers, but no Draco Malfoy. She frowned. He had better not stand her up! She walked to the bathroom. The rude little bugger had better be in there. She almost hoped that he had fallen and hit his head on the tiles now, because that she could forgive. If he stood her up on their very first date, there would be no forgiveness for the rude bastard.

She didn't knock. She merely opened the door. The bathroom was dark and empty. Now she was slightly worried. This castle was so massive, with turrets, towers, numerous wings, three floors, so Hermione had no idea where she should start to look for him. Didn't it even have a moat? What if he was in the moat?

How was she to find him? She didn't want to encounter Milo or Cat's father, so she couldn't search around the castle for him, so instead she started back to her own room, when she heard a woman behind her say, "Miss Granger?"

She turned quickly.

"I was asked to give you this." The woman held out a plain white envelope. Hermione smiled politely, took the missive from the servant and walked back to her room. She opened the door, stepped inside, and closed the door before she opened the note. She was almost afraid to read it. She slipped her finger under the flap, opened the envelope, and a piece of vellums, ivory coloured, paper came wafting out, on its own accord, floating around her head, throughout the air, and landing, opened, on her bed.

She stepped over to read it.

_**I know you, Granger. By now, you're angry, assuming that I have stood you up. Undoubtedly, at first, you were worried that I had forgotten, or that I was asleep, or maybe that I had even fallen and hurt myself. Then, when you couldn't find me, you had thoughts of hurting me yourself.**_

_**Well, Princess, I can't wait to show you how well I know you, but for me to do that you must come to the tower to meet me. Seriously, would I stand you up? Come now, don't keep me waiting, because that would be rude, and I'm the only rude one around here. D-**_

Hermione smiled and said, "Well, that was rather nice." She placed the pretty piece of paper back in the plain envelope, stuck it in the top dresser drawer, and ran out of the doorway, down the hall, to the stairway that would take her to the top of the tower. Holding out her wand for light (and protection), Hermione started up the stairs. She placed the book on the top step, reached the large wooden door, and lifted the latch. She pushed the door outward, the cold air confronting her like an adversary. She placed her arms around her body, walked around the top of the tower, saw him as he faced outward toward the night sky, and called out, "Draco?" He didn't turn around immediately. He stood with his back toward her; facing the never-ending landscape and the dark, endless night.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He knew she was there before she opened the door. He found that he could sense her now. He sensed her fear earlier, when she was locked in that god-awful chamber with Iver. He sensed her sadness when she was in the room they were using for their office. He even sensed her happiness when he kissed her right before she left to get ready for their date.

And he sensed her apprehension now, which mirrored his own, even before she opened the door and called out his name.

After he left her earlier, to get ready for their date, he felt restless. He tried not to think of his previous nightmare, and he tried to think of only their date, but the two things became jumbled together. As he dressed in a pair of black trousers, grey jumper and black jacket, he also thought of Milo's words from the day before. The other man told Draco to claim her now or others would. He told Draco that he had competition for her. What did the man mean by that? Was he referring to himself, or to other Valdes?

Milo had been searching for his bloody mate for years, so why would he suddenly want another man's mate? He even acknowledged that Hermione was Draco's, before Draco openly acknowledged it. Still, how did one go about claiming a mate? Did he need to write up a formal invitation to her? Was there an ancient ritual? If there was, it probably involved that stupid room, so that was out.

While he tied his shoes, sitting on the bed, he pondered that very thing. He would have to find out how to claim her as his mate, because he was tired of denying it. He had spent the better part of his life denying it, but he would deny it no longer. Perhaps there was something it that book of folktales that would tell him how to claim her. Perhaps it was as simple as saying it aloud. Was it merely finding the person that you wanted to live the rest of your life with, and acknowledging that fact? Was it something more ritualistic? Why did any of this matter? Draco wasn't even a Valdes, he hardly had any Veela blood, and Hermione had none, so in the light of day, when all of this was said and done, none of this would matter. Would it?

He started down the corridor toward her door, his heart heavy with regret, fear, and apprehension. He had dark thoughts again, which he once again had to suppress. He knew he would fight for Hermione, to the death if necessary, but how could he fight against himself, if he proved to be the biggest threat? That scared him most of all.

He stayed outside her bedroom door, his hand up, ready to knock, for at least twenty seconds, before he turned around to leave. He wanted to keep her safe, and he wasn't sure that he was the person to do that. Every fiber of his being told him that he would never hurt her, but still, there was always that slight shadow of doubt. He went back to his room, wrote her a note to cancel their date, stuck it in an envelope, and then called for one of the servants to deliver it to her.

While he waited for the servant to come to his room, he changed the note at the last moment, to say that he would meet her on the top of the tower. Then he walked up the stairs that lead to the tower, and he waited for her, his mind blank until he sensed her on the stairs, and then at the door, and then directly behind him, as she called out his name, "Draco?"

She placed her hand on his arm, and even through the thick wool of his jacket and jumper, his skin tingled at her touch. His hands clenched at his sides before he turned to face her. He ached to touch her, stroke her skin. His mouth watered with want for her taste. His groin grew tight with keenness and want. Finally, he turned to face her.

Her hand dropped from his arm, but he reached for it before it fell completely, and brought it up to his mouth. He kissed her fingertips, and then kept her hand in his. The touch of her hand in his sent shivers down her spine. She closed her eyes for the briefest moments, to regain her composure. She said his name again, but he didn't hear it. He felt it.

She removed her hand from his and touched his face, stroked his cheek. She let her hand travel lightly down his face, took his hand again, and without words, she walked with him around to the other side of the tower. She stood still, looking out at the land below them. He stood behind her, and placed his arms around her waist. She leaned against his body.

The moon behind them was bright, but not full, and there was already a multitude of stars in the sky. There were a few patches of clouds, but the sky was mostly clear and bright, even if it was dark and black. Hermione could see beyond the hills, and the rolling fields, to the mountains and the enchanted forest, to the dales and the marshes and the moors. They were so high that she could even see the loch.

"I can see everything," she said. "It's so beautiful and magical up here. Somehow, it seems less intimidating and more miraculous at night."

Draco let go of her waist, and walked around to the other side of the tower. He had yet to say a word. He leaned back over the ledge of the lower wall and she came to stand beside him. Her shoulder touched his, and she said, "Look how high we are, Draco. This is so exhilarating. It's freezing up here, but beautiful."

He placed his hand on her back, and rubbed it up and down. He told himself that it was to warm her, and give her purchase, to help her not be afraid of heights, even though she had not exhibited any fear. Really, he just wanted to touch her.

She loved that he had placed his hand protectively on her back. He rubbed it up and down, and she shivered again. He thought she was cold, but she was merely excited. She turned to face him, and he dropped his hand. She missed his warmth immediately, but her fear was short lived, as he removed his jacket, placed it around her shoulders, and for added warmth, he placed his arms around her. He rubbed her shoulders first, and then wrapped her into the confines of his arms. She placed her head on his chest.

"Won't you be cold?" she asked. She had realized that he had yet to speak, but now that she had asked him a question he would have to speak, wouldn't he?

He merely shook his head no. However, he kept his arms around her and even began to move slightly back and forth, vaguely swaying, as if the breeze was the momentum behind his movement.

She said, "This castle reminds me a lot of Hogwarts. I was always so cold there. In Gryffindor tower, I swear, sometimes in the winter, the wind would seep into the walls, even though they were made of stone. It was almost as if you could feel the tower move with the wind." She lifted her head and smiled at him.

He smiled back. He wanted to say something, anything to her, but he couldn't think of one single thing to say. All he could think was…he wanted her so much. He loved her so much. He had waited for her for so long.

Since he was not inclined to talk, she continued. Still standing in his embrace, almost as if they were dancing, she said, "But who am I to complain. I bet sleeping in the dungeons were worse. It would have been cold even in the spring and fall. It must have always been dark, dank, and wet." She looked up at his face again, and noticed that the moonlight danced across his features, and his smile, and she thought he was so handsome. His hair was even lighter in the moonlight. She placed her hand in his hair, threading her fingers through the silky locks.

"What are we doing here?" he finally asked.

"He speaks," she said with a laugh. She removed her hand from his hair, but kept it on his neck. "I brought the book with me. It's on the top step on the other side of the door. I thought we might read it later, to answer your question as to what we're going to do."

"That wasn't my question," he said, his face a mere mask of emotions. "What are WE doing?"

"We're having our first date," she said solemnly. He dropped his arms from around her. She felt immensely cold, and immediately bereft of his comfort and companionship. Then she understood, and she became angry.

She took his jacket from her shoulders, held it out to him, and said, "I seriously can't do this. I'm sorry. I want to have a date, a real date, but if you can't even do that, then I'll go." He refused to take the jacket, so she let it slip from her hand, down to the floor.

She walked around toward the door. Then she turned back so suddenly, that Draco backed up a step, his lower body pressed against the low wall of the outer edge of the tower. "I mean, seriously, Malfoy!" she said, with anger, "It's a bloody date! Can't you even handle a bloody date? What are you afraid of now? That you'll suck my blood, or throw me over the ledge, or what? If you really want to hurt me that badly, then maybe we should part ways! You're so stupid sometimes!"

"Says the lady with the large vocabulary," Draco said. "Seriously? Stupid is the best you can come up with, because I hate to break it to you, but I've been called shoddier things before, and mostly by you."

Her anger slipped away, and she suddenly looked sad, which made him sad. She said, "You said in your note that you knew me, but you don't even know yourself, Draco Malfoy, and until you do, don't bother me again. We'll work together, but that's it. I'm done. I'm tired of it. You won't hurt me, but it's a shame that I'm the only one who knows that. I refuse to act like some sad, simpering woman who's afraid of you when I'm not. I'm not afraid of you. Too bad you can't return that sentiment, because you, Malfoy, are scared to death, but of the wrong thing. You're not scared that you'll hurt me. I think you'll secretly afraid that I'll hurt you!" She went to the door and opened it.

As if on cue, he slammed it shut before she could cross through the opening. He pressed her against the wood of the door, his chest against her back, and whispered in her ear, "I had a dream after your attack this afternoon that I raped you, Granger, in the most brutal, barbaric way. In my dream, you cried, and fought against me, and I didn't care. I wanted to hurt you. I did, too. I took you by force, and I used power and I inflicted pain. How can I be sure that won't really happen?"

He heard her sniffle, so he didn't know if that meant that she was crying, or cold. She placed her forehead on the wood and said, "Maybe you can't be sure of that, but as you keep saying to me, that you know me, I know you too, and I know you won't hurt me, even if you don't know it, but I'm not having this conversation ever again. It's up to you now."

Her hand went to the handle of the door. She tried to lift the latch. His hand went over hers, pulled it away, and he turned her around to face him. He said, "I think you have a good effect on me, Hermione. I think I can control my actions. I don't want to ruin our date."

He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, lightly, soft as he could. He looked up at her, and then came forward and kissed her deeper, erasing each disturbing thought from his mind. The thought of losing her cut him to the quick. It sent chills to his heart. He had spent his whole life as someone who was always on the outside, wanting to be let in, wanting someone who could be a lover and a friend, wanting and waiting for her, and he wouldn't let his own uncertainties push her away, not when she was open and responsive to letting him in her life.

Her arms came up to wrap around his neck. He murmured into her hair, "You're right, I think I'm secretly afraid of you. What a load of shite, right?" He kissed her hair, and she grew soft against him. "Don't scare me anymore, Granger, okay?" He smiled and when she lifted her face to look at him, she smiled, too.

He wanted her, and he loved her, and he would never hurt her, but could she return that promise? His lips found hers again and his fear passed away to desire, and his nightmare from earlier turned into a reality, in his arms. Draco was selfish, because he should be the strong one, and he should let her go, but he couldn't, so he was damned.

Damned to love her forever.

* * *

_A/N: This chapter wasn't beta'd, so I can't post it on Granger Enchanted yet, so for anyone following this story on there, sorry. I decided to go ahead and post here, beta'd or not, the way I used to post my stories. I used to post them on here, almost daily, and then only post them on GE when they were beta'd, then I would update them on here once they were edited. Thanks._


	24. Chapter 24 A Dare and a Desire

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 24: A Dare and A Desire:**

"Is that good?" Draco asked Hermione as she continued to chew the same piece of 'something' that she had been chewing for a good five minutes. He crossed his right leg over his left and leaned across her to grab some of the white stuff from the plate.

"I don't know," she said. "I'm still chewing, and I haven't decided yet."

"You put it in your mouth a while ago," he pointed out. "You should know by now if it's good." He looked at the white, doughy 'thing' and put it back on the plate. "Why are you still chewing?"

She shrugged and continued to chew. "If it's that tough, spit it out, for Merlin's sake," he said. He held out a napkin, placing it under her chin.

"No," she said, placing her hand over her mouth. "It's getting better."

"Crazy," Draco said. He took a drink of wine and then said, "Are you still cold?"

"No," she answered, finally swallowing, "the combination of your jacket and the warming charm did the trick. Who packed this dinner for us?"

"Cat arranged it," Draco admitted, "Hence the weird food." Hermione looked at him questioningly, and he added, "Weird girl, weird village, weird people, and weird food. It all adds up." Draco pushed the basket aside, took her wine glass right from her fingers, as she was about to take another drink, and he said, "What shall we do now? I suggest we kiss a while. That's what I usually do on a date."

"Oh really?" she asked. She leaned over him, which he liked, and picked up her glass again. She placed a hand on his leg while she took a swallow, so he placed a hand on her back. She finished the wine, letting it make her warm and tingling, or perhaps his hand on her back made her warm and tingling. She sat back again, pulled the lapels of his jacket tighter under her chin, and inhaled deeply. It smelled like him. She handed him the empty glass and said, "I say we read some of the book."

He sighed, made of sort of a snort noise, and said, "Have you ever been on a date? Is that what you and Adrian did when you first dated? Did you read? How fun."

"Shut up," she said as a response. "I can't wait to read the rest of the stories in that book."

"You'll have to wait, because I refuse to read on a date," he retorted. She opened the book and he immediately took it from her hand and put it directly under his bum, on the floor of the tower. "I dare you to get it."

"I will, you know I will," she said.

"I hope you will," he said seriously. "That might lead to the snogging I suggested a moment ago."

"Let's just read one more," she begged. "I've already read the story about Milo, so let's read the one that's about his parents."

"Granger, none of these stories are really about these people here!" he said. He removed the book from under his buttocks and held it in front of her. "It's a book of fairytales, fables. It's old and the stories within are even older. Tomorrow we'll go to the village, and I bet some of the old folks there will be able to recant the exact same stories. Even if your theory is right, which I doubt," she frowned, "and Violet wrote this, she wasn't writing about people from today. She was still just telling the ancient story of her ancestors, in the context of a fable so that she could get around the curse."

She had to concede that he had a valid point. She said, "But the name Milo isn't that common, and there's a story called _'Milo and the Maiden Fair'_. It's not a Gaelic name; it's English in its origin, being a form of Miles, though it's not especially modern."

Draco shrugged and said, "You've made my point for me. Perhaps it's an old family name. Don't make fun of the poor man for having a strange name, _Hermione._" He said her name loudly, drawling out each syllable.

"I wasn't making fun of anyone's name, _Draco_," she said his name with disdain. He opened the book and began to read. She looked over his shoulder and saw that he opened it to the same story from earlier, the one that she said was about him.

"The Lost Prince," he said aloud. "This is the one you think is about me?" He looked at her, and suddenly, she looked anxious.

She held out her hand and said, "Give me the book. You're right. I'm being silly. This is just a book of old stories and it's not about any of these people, or us. Don't read on a date, Draco. That's rude."

He narrowed his gaze and said, "What happens in this story that you don't want me to read it?"

"Nothing," she said. "Give me the book."

"You're a terrible liar," he concluded, but he handed her the book. "What happens, does the prince kill his one true love in the story?" He tried to say it lightly, but he was worried.

She wondered if she should tell him that the story ended the opposite way. Instead, she said, "You know, perhaps there's just something about this place that causes perfectly sane people to act in insane ways."

"I don't think so, because you've always act this way," he joked. He laughed, though she found nothing at all funny about that statement.

She hit him hard, with the book, on the shoulder, and then said, "What I meant to say was that you've never had thoughts of hurting me before we came here, so it could be a curse on outsiders who come here, or some type of dark magic, that makes you think you want to hurt me."

"I don't think so, on either case." She turned to look at him in question, and he explained, "Because I've wanted to hurt you plenty of times before we came to this place."

"Not seriously," she said.

"Yes, pretty much," he said back. "I think I've wanted to strangle you, throttle you, (which are the same thing), slap you senseless, shake you until your teeth rattle, hit you upside the head, knock some sense into you, pinch your bum, and pull your hair out by the roots…and all before we set foot on Glendora's soil."

"Yes, but I'm not talking about when we were children," she harped.

"Neither am I," he said with a mocking grin. "I've wanted to do each and every one of those things just since leaving London earlier this week. Most of them on the ride from London to Dorchester, a few of them in our hotel room that first night, a couple when I discovered you climbed out that pub's window, and one of them in that bookstore. Do you see a pattern?" He smiled at her.

"Yes, you want to cause me bodily harm, and it has nothing to do with a possible curse, dark magic, ancient spells, or Glendora," she droned on, acting bored. "When did you want to pinch my bum?"

He wasn't aware she had heard that one. "Right now," he said. He pushed her over and reached under her to do just that. She pushed against him, put he managed to pinch her before he quickly stood. He walked over to the ledge and sat on the wall, laughing.

"That was degrading and rude, Prince," she said, rubbing her behind. "And get down from there, you might fall."

"I won't fall," he said. He swung his legs back and forth and said, "Come join me."

"I'd rather not," she said, standing up and slipping her arms in the sleeves of his jacket.

"I thought you thought it was beautiful up here, or was that just some sentimental rubbish, heralded for my entertainment, to make you sound all prosey and poeticy?" he asked.

"Prosey and Poeticy are not words, and I meant everything I said," she argued. She walked closer to him and explained, "When I'm on solid grown, like the floor of the tower, I can appreciate the beautiful landscape below, the lovely night sky above, and the partially pleasant company in front of me." He rolled his eyes. "That doesn't mean that I want to walk along the stones of the turret, or watch you do that. I'm still slightly afraid of heights, when there's nothing solid under me, or there's a chance of falling."

"Who said you had to walk the turret?" he asked. "I was just asking you to sit up here with me, not walk the turret, like this." He hoisted himself up and stood on top of the ledge. He walked around the narrow wall. She backed up, toward the center of the tower, her hand over her heart. He continued to walk around the turret, and she continued to follow, her back not leaving the inside wall.

"Draco, come down, please," she urged. "You're acting like a child."

"I like it up here," he said. He stood with his back to her, spread out his arms and said, "I wish I could jump, free fall, and take to flight. I envy those stupid Valdes and the fact that they can become birds. I've always wanted to become an animagus."

"Draco, please, I'll put the book away, and we can kiss," she said, half-joking.

He turned to face her and said, "Join me up here, Granger."

"You're cruel and mean and selfish and you have a disdain for all that is important to me, don't you?" she pouted. "You said you know me, but you don't know a bloody thing about me, except what you want to know. If you really knew me, you would know that right now my heart is beating wildly, and that my palms are sweating, my mouth is dry, and it's not because I'm excited or happy, it's because I'm scared for you. Why would you want to cause me undue fear and alarm?"

"Oh, you're being silly," he said, stepping over a jagged rock, and then almost skipping across a rather large edifice that jutted out from the stone. He turned back to look at her, still thinking this was a game, thinking that she was overreacting, but she was frowning. He said, "Oh, have fun, Granger. Take my hand."

"I'm not coming up there!" She huffed in anger, took off his jacket, threw it on the ground and said, "The date's over. I have work to do. Goodnight."

"Boo Hoo, Hermione's not getting her way," he said. He didn't know why he was suddenly being cruel, but he had only wanted to lighten the mood in the beginning, and when he found that he was actually distressing her, he felt ashamed, so he did what he did best, turn it around to fault her. He had acted that way all his life, never taking responsibility for his own actions, or even his own cruelty. "Hey, Princess," he said, as she opened the door to leave the tower. She turned to look at him. "What would you do if I jumped?" That wasn't what he was going to say. He was going to jump down and say that he was sorry.

"I would say good riddance to bad rubbish," she said seriously.

She turned to leave again, but again, he called out to her, "Hey, Princess."

"Stop calling me that!" she snapped, walking up to him. She looked up at him, he looked down at her, and he jumped down, landing right in front of her.

"I don't know how to be with you. Just 'be', you know? I don't know how to act with you, treat you, behave, or talk, or anything. I'm horrible at interactions with the opposite sex. I usually just sleep with women, I don't date them, not really," he said as a way of explanation.

"You're seriously lacking in the social graces, Malfoy," she said. "But then again, I knew that about you. You see, as much as you keep spouting that you know all about me, you don't. You just don't. I, however, really do know all about you."

He barked a laugh, placed his finger on her chest, and pushed her against the inside wall, a gleam in his eyes, a smile on his lip. "You know nothing about me, but I know everything there is about you," he challenged.

"Tell me, oh Rude One, all about me," she challenged back.

He pressed her against the stones of the wall and said, "I know about your mouth. It's soft, pink, and inviting." His finger traced the delicate outline of her mouth.

"My mouth?" she asked. "Malfoy, that's not what I meant," she tried to explain, but he silenced her with a brief kiss then he smiled.

"May I continue?"

"Carry on," she said, acting bored, though her insides were turning into mush.

"Here's another thing I know," he started, his fingers skimming her cheek, as her eyes fluttered shut. "Open your eyes, because I'm about to tell you that they're the warmest shade of brown I've ever seen." She opened her eyes and he continued. "They have gold and green specks, and you have the longest eyelashes." His fingertip skimmed her right eyelid, feeling the eyelashes.

"Your skin is so pure, and the colour of ivory," he said. "I wish I could see all of it." His nose skimmed her cheek, to her jaw, to her neck, where he sucked on her pulse point. Her hands went to his shoulders, and held on tight. "You have adorable freckles on your nose, across the bridge, and to your cheeks." He took his fingertip and touched a few of her freckles.

"You have a mole on your back and one on your shoulder," she leveled.

"Good to know, I'll have the Healer check those when I get home," he teased. She smiled. "Your smile would light up the darkest night, Granger. I dare say I wish I had seen more of that smile growing up. It could have made the coldest day in the dark dungeons of Hogwarts warm, radiating heat, love, friendship, caring and every other emotion, which you wear so proudly on your face."

Her lips parted.

He took a deep breath in, and said, "I've stayed awake nights, for years I have, thinking about you, wondering what you taste like, wondering what it would be like to have you underneath me, or on top of me, or beside me. I've wondered what you taste like, but not just your lips, but also every bit of you. Your scent calls and beckons to me, and makes me hard with want." He braced his left hand beside her head, his right hand resting on her heart, over her jumper.

The night suddenly seemed warmer, the air thicker, the tower higher, and Hermione felt dizzy. "I want you so very much, Granger. It's too late for me, you know. It's too late for you, too. We're in over our heads. I want to kiss you, touch you, and love you." His lips kissed across her jaw, to her ear, where he pulled on her earlobe with his teeth, and she shuddered. He pressed his whole body against hers; so that his want for her could not be mistaken…she could feel it pressed against her hip. "Do you feel how much I want you?"

His tongue drew a line down her throat. Both hands went to the neckline of her jumper, pulled slightly, and he kissed the hollow of her neck, nipping with his teeth as he went from one side to the next. He slipped his knee between her legs, and she clutched at his shoulders, in order not to fall. One hand went down slowly, to her hand, then back up her arm, to her waist, and he cupped one of her breasts over her sweater, the weight and feel of it his final reward.

"I want to make love to you, Hermione."

"Not here," she whispered.

"Fine, not here," he said. He expected her to say no. He was glad that she hadn't. Hermione pushed him away, only so that he could grab her hand, pull open the door, and drag her down the stairs.

"Our things," she started.

"Will be here later," he said, impatiently.

He ran with her toward his bedroom, but they both stopped dead when they saw Cat running toward them from the other end of the long hallway. There were tears streaking down her face. She said, "I take it you've heard?"

Draco looked at Hermione, who looked from Draco back to Cat, before she asked, "No, what happened?"

"Some of the men from one of the other clans found another body. You both were right, it's of one of the other missing girls, the ones from years ago, from Dorchester. They're downstairs now, and they're demanding that Milo turn over Iver. Milo is ready to fight to the death. They think that Iver's the murderer!" she cried.

Hermione and Draco looked at each other, and then hand in hand they followed the younger girl down the stairs.

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_Does anyone remember the good old days when I used to post almost daily? How did I ever have the time? I wrote "A Familiar Place" in a little over a month, and "A Regret to Belong" in a little under a month! A month!!! Crazy. The next chapter is also done._


	25. Chapter 25 A Fight and a Flight

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 25: A Fight and a Flight:**

Milo and Mr. MacNeill were standing just outside the castle, and standing around them were perhaps twenty other men. Hermione heard raised voices, and she could see that Milo had his wand drawn. Draco started out the door, his wand in his hand, when he turned to Hermione and said, "Stay inside with Cat. If anyone tries to get inside, kill them first and ask questions later."

"That doesn't make sense," Hermione replied.

Draco didn't hear her, as he was already outside. Hermione turned to Cat and said, "Where's Iver?"

"He's up in his room."

"Are these men from the other clans?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, and when my father heard that there was another body found he told Milo to get the other members of our clan to come here, in case there was trouble, but then these men got here first," Cat answered.

"Cat, is there another way out of the castle, a way that won't be seen by the crowd outside the door?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, why, are you leaving? Don't leave," she begged.

"I'm not leaving, you are," Hermione said. "You need to get the other men from your clan to come to help Milo, Draco, and your father. Can you do that?"

She nodded and said, "Yes, and I'll get the members of the beta clan, too. They're second after the Alpha clan, or the Primal clan, which is ours. They won't like that the other clans are challenging Milo's authority."

"Be quick and be careful," Hermione urged. She reached out and grabbed the girl's hand for encouragement. Cat nodded and ran down the long, Great Hall, and out of sight. Hermione strained to hear what Milo and the others, including Malfoy, were saying, but she couldn't hear a thing. She looked up from the doorway, toward the tower where she and Draco had just had their date. She wondered if she could climb up there, and use a charm to hear the conversation. She was about to do just that, when looked around to the other side of the castle and spotted Iver on another tower. She decided to join him instead.

She climbed the stairs to the top and pushed open the door. The door to this tower was a trapdoor on the floor. She pushed it open partially before she called out, "Iver, are you out here?"

"Hermione?" he asked. He looked down through the crack in the door, opened the heavy door the rest of the way, and then offered her a hand. She saw that he was still badly bruised and battered from his fight with his brother. She felt partially responsible. He hurried back over to the wall, looked down, and said, "They want to take me away. They found another body. They think I'm responsible."

"Can you hear them from up here?" she asked. She stood beside him.

"No, but I heard them when they first came to the door," he said. "Milo forced me to go back up to my room. They heard about the attack against you, and they think that I killed those other girls. They said that I was here when each of them was killed, and that because of me, outsiders are now going to come and destroy our village. They want to hand me over to the tribunal, and have them pass judgment over me."

"Then we'll just prove that you're innocent, if that happens," Hermione said.

Iver shook his head no. "They won't find me innocent. I'm already guilty."

"Of what?" she asked, outraged. "You didn't kill anyone, and you can't help it if you're ill. You were born this way, and surely there are others in the other clans who also suffer…" she stopped talking, because he was slowly shaking his head no.

"I'm the only one, and no one knew about it, until you were attacked today, and they only knew about it then because several of the other clansmen were drawn to the forest by the smell of your blood, and by mine and my brother's blood. It's a terrible crime for Milo to have fought me in such a way, because one is never to draw blood from their own brother, so when they questioned him about it, after the attack, he had to explain the reason for it to the other clans, so now they know my dark secret."

Hermione felt even more guilt when he explained this to her. If she hadn't cut her hand in the chamber, none of this would have happened. "But Milo told me, and so did you, that it was an infliction, suffered by several members of the clans. You said you were born this way, that it's an illness."

He sighed. "We lied. We didn't want you to know the truth. I was cursed at birth, we both were, Milo's curse is different from mine. His curse is that he will never be able to find his mate. My curse is this…plague, this blight, this stain, this evilness."

"You said it's against the law, but if you're cursed, you can't help it," she offered.

"They won't care," he said, motioning to the men down in the courtyard. "It's because of the sins of my father that we were both cursed anyway, so the other clans will feel that it's our just rewards. Vampirism has been outlawed by our village for hundreds of years, as is blood exchange, although it's well known that some clans still exchange blood with their mates, it's just kept secret."

"What was your father's sin, that precipitated the curse, and who cursed you?" Hermione asked.

"My father's sin was to marry outside of our people, or the Valdes. I already told you that. Centuries ago, when the Day people left, the oldest witch of our village put a curse on them, so that they could never speak of our secrets, and we could never share our secrets with their descendents, either," Iver explained.

Hermione looked back down at the crowd. Milo was shouting at someone, and Draco was holding the young man back from the crowd. She said, "Violet Edgewater, the witch that was killed in our hotel room said something about that. She was from the Day people, I think."

"Yes, as was my mother, and somehow, our parents found a way around that curse, and they fell in love, but in secret, and that was deemed a sin in the eyes of the other clans. They could do nothing about it really, because my father was Prime, the Prince, by birth, so his word was law, but MacNeill often told us that he suspected that someone, or more than one person, from the other clans killed our parents as punishment."

"But if your mother was from the Veela line, the Day people, then it's not as if he really married outside your people, since the Day people are related to the Night people, right?" she asked.

"The Night people have never considered the Day people as part of our clans, and visa versa, and my father was supposed to marry his mate, who was a witch from the third clan, but on the eve of their wedding, he left our village and married my mother instead, because he said he could no longer live a lie. This caused a great scandal among the clans. It was considered a terrible transgression against our people."

Iver sat down on the stone floor and continued his story. "Likewise, my brother and I were cursed at birth, to pay for his sins. Milo with the curse that he could never find his mate, which was reference to the fact that my father went outside his own people, gave up his mate, to marry another. So that I too would never have a mate, I was cursed with Vampirism, which was fitting, because that was the cause of the split between the Day and the Night people from the start." He got up on his knees to peer back down at the crowd.

She leaned down, took his hand, and quizzed, "But who cursed you?"

"The woman that was originally supposed to be my father's mate. Her name was Cairison. She died many years ago, never married, never had children, and all hope to lift the curse from my brother and I died with her." He sunk to the floor of the tower, placed his head in his hands and said, "It's all so hopeless. Whoever killed those young girls wanted this to be the outcome. They wanted everyone to think that I was the murderer. It's probably the same person who locked us in the chamber together."

She knelt beside him, her hand on his shoulder, and she said, "I don't think those girls were killed to frame you. I think there's another reason, but despite that, I agree that whoever locked us in that room is probably the real murderer."

The shouting from below was getting louder. Hermione and Iver both stood up and looked over the ledge at the same time. They were also noticed at the same time by Draco and by another wizard, who pointed up toward the tower. The wizard raised his wand toward the pair and sent out a hex. Hermione grabbed Iver's arm and pulled him to the floor just as the beam from the curse whizzed by their heads.

Draco panicked. He thought that Hermione had been hit by the curse. Milo thought the same thing. They both drew their wands, and began to fire off curses, just as falcons of all shapes and sizes began to descend, along with eagles and a few other birds. The birds became men, and began to assist Draco and Milo against the other clansmen.

Iver tried to stand up again, to see what was happening, but Hermione kept him on the ground. She rose up instead, and she said, "The others are retreating. They've turned into birds and are taking flight. This is bad, isn't it?"

"There hasn't been fighting among the clans for hundreds of years," Iver said. "If it comes to a feud, our clan is Prime, our brother clan is Beta, or second, and we are the two largest and most powerful. We probably would be able to get one or two of the lesser clans on our side, but yes, this would be bad. This could be the end of our people. I have to give myself up to them, Hermione."

"No," she barked.

"I can't be the cause of the end of my people," he said. "There was a split centuries ago, when the Day people left, and our clans have never quite gotten over it. I can't let it happen again."

"NO!" she said more forcefully. She heard footsteps on the tower steps, and she sat in front of Iver and blocked him with her body, to protect him, even as she drew out her wand.

The hatch door opened, and Draco and Milo were both standing before them. Draco ran to her, scooped her into his arms, and stood her up. "I thought they hit you!"

"Of course not," she said, as if his worry was unwarranted. "I can take care of myself, you know."

"I know, I know," he said into her hair, holding her tight. "Except that you sort of can't." She hit his chest hard at that comment.

She looked over at Milo, who looked white as a sheet as he stared down at his brother. Milo said, "I also thought that the curse hit you both. Are you certain that you are both unharmed?" Iver swallowed hard, looked up at his brother, and nodded his head yes.

Hermione pushed at Draco's chest, walked over to Milo, and said, "Who did they find? Who's dead?"

"One of the missing girls from Dorchester. One of the ones that went missing many years ago. I don't know which one it is, or how they found her, but they left her body here. MacNeill is taking care of it." He looked at Iver and said, "You had nothing to do with this, right? Promise me that you had nothing to do with this!"

"What?" Iver asked, standing up beside his brother. "How can you ask that?"

"I just fought against our own people!" he shouted. "I have to know! I've broken so many of our laws to protect you, or because of you, Iver! I have to know if you had anything at all to do with these murders!"

"I wouldn't do that!" Iver shouted back, struggling to come to stand in front of his accuser.

Milo pointed to Hermione and said, "You almost killed her today!"

"No!" Iver said. "I wouldn't have killed her! I wasn't in total control, but I know I wouldn't have killed her!" He looked at Hermione, then quickly back to his brother. Then they all heard a gasp…Cat was standing on the stairs, and Iver's stare went directly from his brother to her. "I wouldn't have killed her, Cat. I swear."

"You attacked Hermione today?" Cat asked softly. "How could you do that?" She turned and ran down the stairs, crying the entire way.

Milo sunk down to the floor and he said, "I don't know what to believe, anymore. I don't know what's happening here. I'm losing all control. Everything I've ever believed is being questioned."

There was a prolonged silence, because no one knew what to say to that statement. Finally, Hermione asked, "Will they be back?"

Milo shook his head no. "No, it was really just one clan. The Tri clan or the clan from the third sister. They are suddenly questioning my authority, but they have the other lesser clans following them, the Ceither, the Coig and the Sia. Our Gaelic name is the Aon, or number one, the Beta clan, the Da Dha, will stand behind us, as will the seventh clan, the Seachd. The eighth clan was the one that left our village all those years ago, and they were of pure Veela and pureblood Wizard blood. They were known as the Ochd."

Hermione said thoughtfully, "One through eight, right? In Scottish Gaelic? You said that the symbols on the jewelry found on the girls also stood for the seven clans, correct?"

He nodded. Hermione sat down on the floor beside him. Draco paced back and forth, looking down below to make sure that no one remained behind, even as Iver did the same, searching the sky.

Milo explained, "The symbol on the front of the jewelry is the symbol for all of our clans combined, the two entwined 8's. I might as well tell you now that you didn't quite have all the symbols correct. You didn't notice them all. On the back of the earrings you only saw the snake, the crown, the horse's head and the bull's head, surrounded by a wreath, but there were more symbols that you didn't notice."

"I didn't see more," she said.

Milo said, "Look again sometime. There were symbols, smaller than the others, in between each one. Under the snake is a star, under the crown is a moon, under the horse's head is a sun, and it ends with the bull's head. Each of these symbols, seven in all, represents the seven clans of the Valdes. The wreath isn't a symbol. It represents the binding together of our people. The eighth clan had their own symbol, but you won't see it anywhere around here."

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"We don't even know," Iver explained for his brother as he came to sit on the floor beside Hermione. "All remnants of that clan were wiped away from our village right after the great feud, after they left."

Hermione frowned. She looked up at Draco and he said, "Don't look at me; I don't know what the hell it is. I don't have some tattoo, or some secret birthmark on my arse, which has their symbol on it or anything. Why does it matter, Granger? What do these symbols have to do with anything?"

"I don't know, but I think it's important," she said. She stood up and then walked over to Draco and gasped when she saw that he had a tear in his jumper sleeve. She moved the soft wool to the side and said, "You're injured! You're bleeding!"

He looked at his torn sleeve. "Oh, yes, a mild flesh wound, a slight graze from a deflected spell."

"Let me see," she began, pulling on his torn sleeve.

"I'm fine," he said back. He pulled his arm from her grasp. Milo struggled to stand, as did Iver. Draco gave Iver a hand. When both brothers were standing, Milo offered his hand to Draco.

"Thank you for helping us, Malfoy. I appreciate it." Milo shook Draco's hand up and down several times before he released it.

"It's my job," Draco said, unabashed.

"No, it's your destiny," Milo said steadily. "You're fulfilling a prophecy. You're meant to come back, to bring the clans back together."

"Bollocks!" Draco snapped. "I don't believe in the drivel."

"It's the truth, just the same, whether you believe it or not. You don't believe in mates either, yet yours stands before you, Malfoy," Milo said without airs. "You're doing more than just a job here. You're fulfilling an ancient prophecy, as the lost prince of the eighth clan. You're meant to come here and bring our people peace."

Draco rolled his eyes, and Iver slapped Draco on the shoulder and with a slight grin said, "Yes, and you're doing a bloody good show of it, Malfoy. A good duel, unsolved murders, dissension, and a battle always bring people together, I say."

Draco looked at the younger man, who was actually smiling, and then he threw his head back, laughed, and said, "I think I like you, Iver. You're as warped as I am, and I do believe your nasty little habit of letting your fangs down, so to speak, isn't helping bring about joyous brotherhood to the clans, either."

Milo shook his head and said sternly, "You both are seriously deranged."

"They are, aren't they?" Hermione agreed. "They're both daft." Milo and Hermione both shook their heads in disbelief, as Iver and Draco continued to laugh.

Iver pointed to the pair and said to Malfoy, "No sense of humour in those two is there? On that note, I have to go find Cat."

"No," Milo said. "You have to go back to bed and heal. I'll take you to the springs tomorrow, which will assist your healing, because it's too dangerous to go tonight. Malfoy and Hermione can go tomorrow as well. I'll go talk to Cat." He nodded goodnight to Hermione and Draco and then he opened the trapdoor, pointed at the stairs, and then said, "Go to bed, Iver."

"Yes, father," Iver said sarcastically. He turned back and said, "Thank you again, Malfoy. And Hermione, I can't believe how understanding you're being. I really wished I hadn't tried to attack you today. You've been a good friend, regardless, because you really don't deserve such treatment."

"Yes, trying to kill someone usually puts a crimp in a friendship, aye?" Milo said, somberly. Iver, Draco and Hermione all stared at him, shocked, before Iver finally laughed, as did Draco. Milo smiled and then said, "I can have a sense of humour, it's just that I usually choose not to have one." He walked down the stairs, with Iver behind him, still laughing.

Draco cocked his head toward the opened trapdoor and said, "I've never seen Milo smile before. I think he's scarier smiling than when he's serious. After you, Hermione."

"What an exhilarating way to end our date, huh?" she asked.

"Is it over?" he asked. He raised one eyebrow.

She walked over to him and said, "We could end it with me healing your arm, if you'd like."

"No, I want to finish what we started earlier," he said. He pulled on her jumper, and brought her against his body.

"Do you know what I really want to do?" she asked, with a sweet smile.

He smiled back, and said, "Tell me, Granger, please tell me."

"I want to read more stories in that book. I can't wait to find out about the other clans, and the story about Iver's parents. I'll go get another shower, get in my nightclothes; you do the same, and meet me in my bedroom, say in twenty minutes?" She clasped her hands in front of her and almost squealed in excitement.

"I hope you're showing me your sense of humour, because I swear you'd better be joking," he said. She ran down the stairs and out of sight, laughing.

He frowned and he said to himself, "Damn, I don't think she was joking, because she really doesn't have that good of a sense of humour. I better at least get another kiss if I have to spend time in bed reading with her." He started down the stairs and ran right into her.

"You'll get a kiss, Draco Malfoy; don't worry," she said, "Maybe even more." She touched his face lightly, smiled again, and took his hand, to pull him down the stairs.

"Alright then," he said, with a grin.


	26. Chapter 26 A Goodnight and a Question

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 26: A Goodnight and a Question:**

Hermione Granger sat in a chair in the corner of her bedchamber, rubbed her eyes, and yawned. She felt so tired, but she wanted to continue reading. As soon as she got back to her room, she changed into her nightgown, forgoing another bath, and she opened the book as soon as she was able. She would read a story or two while she waited for Draco. The first story she turned to was the one about Milo and Iver's parents.

Hermione was of the mindset that Malfoy was completely wrong about the fact that Violet Edgewater had not written this book. She undoubtedly wrote this book…because the story entitled, '_Love From Another Land' _told the harrowing, sad story of Iver and Milo's parents. It couldn't be an old folktale. It was real. She felt it in her bones.

The story echoed what Iver had told her earlier, a young man, a prince of his clan, already bound through blood exchange to his mate, leaves on the eve of his wedding. He returns only two weeks later having married a woman that he had met ten months earlier in the neighboring village. He chose to marry for love, instead of marrying because fate had selected his mate. Many people of their village never forgave him, and though the young couple was happy, and had two beautiful sons, they met an unhappy ending. One night, on the eve of their 16th wedding anniversary, their castle burnt to the ground, killing both of them, leaving their children orphaned and alone.

In the story, the man's jealous mate burned the castle, because she had been left at the altar. She was brokenhearted, and the jealousy and rage that twisted her mind, compelled her to seek revenge by murdering her mate and his true love. Hermione often thought that the murders of these young girls were a crime of passion, or jealousy. She wondered if perhaps someone was trying to kill Milo's potential mate, before he could find her. It was plausible, all except for Violet's death…that one didn't fall in that theory.

When Hermione reached the end of the story, she found that she was crying. She also found that an hour had passed. It was well after midnight, and Draco had never come for her. She wondered where he was, and why he had yet to come, but she wasn't worried. She knew that he would not disappoint her.

Hermione found it curious that Milo's father would give up his mate to marry another woman. She naturally assumed that the Valdes, and Veelas, fell in love with their mates. Otherwise, none of this 'mating' thing made any sense to her. Milo seemed so intent to find his mate, because he seemed so unhappy without love. Hermione thought the two went hand-in-hand. If he could love without finding his mate, then why didn't he just open his heart to finding a woman to love, instead of trying to find his mate?

These thoughts led her to thoughts of Draco. Had he been waiting for Hermione for years? Why? Just because he had a dream, that she was his mate. Did that mean that he loved her solely because of that dream, or because of her? She wasn't even sure of her own feelings at this point. She knew that she found Draco attractive. She thought he was witty, charming, at times irritating and a pompous git, but overall, she was beginning really to fall for the man.

Nevertheless, it was too soon to call it love. It had only been a week. People don't fall in love in a week.

Yet, she knew that Draco loved her very much. She placed the book beside her on the chair and stared at the dying embers of the fire. She brought her feet up under her, and placed a wool throw over her legs. Did Draco really love her already? Had he loved her for a long time, or had he fallen in love with her since they started working together? Was he merely ruled by his Veela heritage, and the magic of Glendora, or did he really, truly love HER?

Did she love him? She could honestly say that although she felt things for him that she had never felt for another man, she did not know yet if she loved him. It was simply too soon. She knew she was falling in love with him, and that was a start, and even that thought scared her. She was falling in love with the man, and she wondered if Draco's love for her was shallow, and ruled by fate, by magic, and not by his own mind or heart.

She knew that he was worried about the same thing. He had said as much. She wanted to take things slowly, date him, get to know him, and then discover if what they felt was real. Right now, they were thrown together to solve these murders, and the heightened awareness of 'mates' and the danger they found themselves in surely fueled their feelings. She sighed and rubbed her eyes again.

She wanted to know if what she felt was real, or merely magic. Was it the romantic notion of pre-ordained love that ruled her heart, or was it the man himself? If they had met again at a bar, in London, or anywhere else, would she feel the same? She knew that he would, but would she?

Of course, she would! She chided herself for even considering otherwise. The small hand on the clock was moving toward the one. He wasn't coming. She would close her eyes, for a moment. One small moment, and then go look for him.

Draco took a long, hot shower. He dressed and treated his own wound, although healing spells were not his forte. He started toward Hermione's room, when he found Cat, alone in an Alcove in the guest wing of the castle. He couldn't help noticing her tears and distress, so he stopped walking, and sat down on the window seat beside to her.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Iver's a vampire," she said quietly. "I can't believe it, but it's true. Milo just told me everything."

"He's not really a vampire, he was cursed, you know," Draco responded.

The young girl continued to cry. "Milo told me that the reason he decided that Iver would marry me instead of him marrying me was because he knew he could detain it, put the wedding off, as long as he wished, if it was between Iver and me. If it were between him and me, the clans would have forced us to marry by now. He said that by betrothing me to Iver, he was protecting him. It doesn't make sense to me. He said that he has searched for a cure for his brother for almost as long as he's been searching for his own mate." She looked up at Draco and said, "But he also said that because of his curse, he will probably never find his mate."

"He could still fall in love, right?" Draco said. He phrased it as a question, even though he meant it as a reassuring statement. He needed to know that love could still occur without finding one's mate, because he wanted to be certain that Granger could love him, even though she wasn't of Veela heritage.

"Yes, of course. I'm not Iver's mate, and we're in love," she answered.

Draco wondered if that was true, at least on Iver's part. He felt that Iver was merely marrying Cat because his brother was forcing him to do so. Cat continued, "And look at Iver's parents, they weren't mates, and they were in love."

"That's right," Draco said, pleased.

"I feel badly for Milo," she concluded. "I wish I had known about the curses on both of them. I might not have been able to help, but it would have been better for me to know, don't you think?"

"Yes," Draco agreed. It was all he could say.

She said, "Milo said that he uses magic when he meets a woman, to see if they're his mate, since he's never really had his mate dream, but that it never works. He's lonely. He's sad."

"So is Iver, I think," Draco said. He wanted to tell the young girl that many people were sad and lonely. Hell, Draco was sad and lonely. He closed his eyes for a moment and thought of Hermione. He wondered if his sadness and loneliness would subside now that he had her in his life. "Well, I best go to Granger. She's waiting for me." He stood up to leave, but stopped when Cat called his name.

"Mr. Malfoy?" she asked. He turned to her. "Do you really love her?"

Draco pondered that question. Did he really love her? He was sure that he did. He remembered his mate dream vividly. He was only a boy, a teenager, still young. He was at home, on break from school. He had been ill for a week…not eating well, not sleeping, irritable, moody. His mother even sent him to a Healer. His father sat him down on the fourth day of his 'illness' and told him everything, EVERYTHING, about their Veela heritage.

Draco was told back then about being a descendent of Glendora. His family could trace their lineage back to the eighth sister, Annsa, which in Gaelic means beloved. His branch of the family moved to France, and then later to England. His father told him that he was of an age where he would have his 'mate' dream. He told him what to expect, and not to be afraid. He told him that when he had his own dream, he went to his father, and his father explained everything exactly the same way to him.

It was that very night, after his talk with his father, that he had his dream. He dreamt that he was a man, not a boy, and he was in a dark hollow, that was endless, open. It was an empty abyss. He walked in circles, screaming, crying, and calling for help. He was bleeding. He had an open wound on his chest, near his heart. He felt pain, not from the wound, but from a loss that he couldn't explain. He felt trapped in a void, the results were cataclysmic, and he knew that he was going to die.

Then, a light filled the chamber and he felt calm and reassured. He walked toward the source of the light, and he saw a woman. He felt immediate love for her. He felt peace and happiness. The wound on his chest closed and the bleeding stopped. She opened her arms to him. He ran to her. Then he took her in his arms and held her.

It was Hermione Granger.

When he woke up, he was so shocked and upset that he felt sick. He couldn't get out of his bed for days. His father finally came to his room and asked him if he had his dream. He told him yes. Then he asked him if he recognized the woman who was to be his mate.

He told him no.

How could he tell his father, a Death Eater, Voldemort's right-hand man, that his 'mate' was a Mudblood? Even worst, a friend of Harry Potter's? Draco asked his father if his mother was the woman from his mate dream. He said that she was. Draco turned to his side and begged his father to leave him alone for a while.

His father left the room, and Draco Malfoy stared at the wall and then he cried.

Did he love her? He looked at Cat to answer her question.

* * *

_A/N: Slow moving, short chapter…no Dramione interaction…apologies. This is a filler chapter, to give you all some background, and if you pay a bit of attention, a clue or two. The next chapter is already back from my beta, and it will be purely Draco/Hermione interaction. I will post it soon, too._


	27. Chapter 27 An Answer and a Bad Morning

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 27: An Answer and a Bad Morning:**

"Mr. Malfoy?" Cat asked. He turned to her. "Do you really love her?"

"I believe I do," he said. "I want to love her, I need to love her, but I want to love her because she's a wonderful person, and beautiful, and kind, and a bit demanding, and a pain in the arse." Cat smiled and Draco laughed. He sat back down.

"Can Iver ever really love me if I'm not his mate?" she asked suddenly. She looked so sad that it broke Draco's heart.

"Listen, Cat," Draco said, taking her hand. "Mate business aside, because frankly it confuses me, I've known Hermione Granger for fifteen years. I hated her for most of those years, even after I had my mate dream. I hope that my feelings for her have nothing to do with a dream that I had when I was a kid, and has everything to do with the people we've become. I mean, I still hate her sometimes," he laughed and continued, "but most of the time I think I'm falling in love with her…the real her, not my mate. Even if I hadn't realized she was my mate, I'm sure I would have fallen in love with her, after I stopped being so irritated by her, that is."

"But did you come here with her because she was your mate, or was it just a coincidence?" Cat inquired.

This was something Draco hated to admit. He decided to choose his words wisely. "When this case was presented to us, by the Muggle authorities, it was already decided that the Ministry was going to seek help from the University, I went to my superiors, and I told them that I had a slight connection to this place. I didn't reveal anything else. I didn't tell them that when I was a teenager I had a vivid dream one night that I was in a chamber, and that Hermione Granger was there, too. I didn't tell them that I knew immediately, the moment I woke up, that the stories my grandfather had told me, confirmed by my father, that I might have a dream revealing my mate someday, had come true."

He sat back down next to Cat, and without hesitation, he took her hand in his.

"I never told my superiors that I spent the next several years denying to myself that the dream was real, because by Merlin, the girl in my dream was the epitome of everything that I hated. She was the bane of my existence, and I held nothing but hate and contempt for her. I felt nothing but disdain for the girl that she was. I never told anyone that when we were 18, during the war, and she was being tortured in my home, by my aunt, it felt as if someone was carving my heart out. It felt as if someone had lit a match to my nerve endings, and that each time she screamed I felt as if a piece of me was dying."

"I didn't understand it, because I was supposed to hate her. I was raised to detest her. I had always hated her in obedience to the beliefs of my family, but from that point on, I didn't. I started to see her differently. I became friendly with her, but never more than acquaintances. I sat idly by while she dated one man I totally hated, and then another man whom I once called a friend."

"I never intended, ever, to act on my feelings. I never intended to tell a soul about my Veela heritage, or my mate dream, least of all, her. But when I found out she was coming here, I knew I had to come, too."

"Because of your destiny?" Cat asked. Draco looked at her confused. "You were meant to come here, that's what Milo told me, and you were also destined to protect her, and to fall in love."

"No, I believe we make our own destinies. I came because I wanted a chance to see if what I felt could be real, and I came to see if she could ever love me in return."

"Did you find out? Is it real, or is it pre-ordained magic?" Cat asked, desperately.

Draco answered, "If she would leave here today, and decide never to see me again, I believe my heart would break in two, but I would heal, but not because she's my mate, but because she's Hermione Granger. Does that make sense? Did any of this help you at all?"

"Did it help you?" Cat asked in return. This time, she stood up first, and she said, "I hope it did. It helped me. Goodnight, Mr. Malfoy."

"Goodnight, Cat," he called out as she walked away. He looked at his watch. It was almost one in the morning. He hoped Hermione was still waiting for him, because he had a lot to tell her. He wanted to tell her that he loved her, really loved her, not his mate, but her.

He didn't knock on her door. He opened it, and saw that she was sitting on the same chair where she slept that first night, and where she was sleeping now. Her face was against the wingback of the chair and the dying light of the fire to her left danced streaks of light and dark shadows across the planes of her face. The book was tucked beside her hip, against the arm of the chair. Her feet were peeking out from the wrap around her legs, even though they were partially under her body.

He stoked the fire with a flick of his wand, leaned down on his knees, and tucked the wrap around her feet. He picked up the book, and with his back against the front of the chair, he began to read by the glow of the fire. He read the story of Milo first, and then he read the story of Milo's parents. After he read the stories, he believed what Hermione had said, which was that this book was not an old book of folktales. Violet Edgewater probably wrote it, and she was probably trying to reveal something to them.

Then, he found a page, the corner of which was turned down, and he started to read the story about the lost prince of the lost clan. He was almost to the end of the story, when he felt her hand in his hair. He closed the book, closed his eyes, sighed, and leaned his head back against her knee. She continued to rub his head.

"I was thinking earlier," she said.

He kept his eyes closed and said, "Nasty habit, that. You seem to do that a lot, don't you? What were you thinking, Hermione?"

"I think what I feel for you is real. It's not about magic or destiny. It may be in the beginning stages, and it may not be strong yet, but it could be. I want it to be, but I want to take it slow, and see what develops. I'm not convinced any of this…the way you and I feel, has anything to do with being mates. I'm not even sure I believe in the magic of mates. If people can fall in love without being mates, then I'm not certain that being mates has any credence. Do you know what I'm saying?"

He opened his eyes. He brought his hand up to hers, to keep it still. Without looking at her he said, "I was having the same thoughts earlier. In other words, you were having doubts, is that right, and now you don't?"

"Now I don't," she declared.

"And you don't believe what we feel for each other has anything to do with being mates?" he inquired.

"That's right," she confirmed.

"And you want to take it slow?" he asked.

"Is that okay?" She placed her feet on the floor, to the right of his body, and leaned down to look at him. He turned his head and looked right up into her eyes.

"I think that's a good idea, because no one falls in love overnight, right? We need to make sure it's real," he agreed. He smiled at her, although he felt slightly anxious at her declaration. He didn't want to take it slow. He had no doubts. He loved her, and whether it had to do with mates, or not, her doubts couldn't take away his feelings for her.

To lighten the mood, he said, "Does that mean you aren't having sex with me tonight, because I thought that would be a great way to cap off our date?"

She bonked him on the head with a small pillow that was behind her back. "That's your answer," she replied.

"Hmmm," he hummed.

"Did you read any of the stories?" she asked when she spied the book beside him on the floor. She climbed out of the chair, picked up the book, sat beside him, and pulled the cover over her legs as she leaned against his shoulder.

"I read a couple of them. I was just reading the one about me and you, when you woke up," he said. "I didn't get to finish it."

Hermione felt anxious, but she tried hard not to let it show. She put the book on the now empty chair and said, "I thought you said that book was old, so how could it be about you and me?"

He shrugged and said, "You didn't answer my question. You read the whole thing, so tell me, how does it end?"

"Let me tell you how it ends," she responded. "They both go to sleep, because it's after one in the morning." He took her hand, and rubbed his thumb on her palm. She placed her head on his shoulder.

"No, I'm sure that's wrong. I know how it ends," he said playfully. "They go on a date, and she wants to read, but he wants to snog, and in the end, they compromise."

"Do tell?" She smiled at him.

"Yes, so lets snog a while, and we can use the book as a headrest. That's a good comprise," he declared. "Since all the other stories came true, I wonder if this one will?" he joked.

She certainly hoped the real story would never come true, because she could never kill Draco, ever. Seriously, she confirmed, "Draco, there's no way Violet could have written a story about you and me, if she's the one that wrote this book, because this was written before she met us. That story isn't about you."

"Hermione," he said back, "I no longer know if this is an old book, or something written by Violet, but I know that story isn't about us." However, how could he explain the fact that the two stories that he had read, about Milo and his parents, seemed very, very real. "How does this story end, Granger?" he finally asked.

"They snog on the rug in front of her fireplace, and use the book as a headrest," she said lightly. She reached for the book, and placed it under the cushion on the chair. "Why were you late, anyway?"

"I had a long talk with Cat, about love, mates, and such." He played with a strand of her hair, twirling it around his finger.

"And what did you say to the impressionable Cat?" Hermione asked. She leaned her head back on his shoulder. He placed his arm around her.

"I told her that I spent so many years hating you, so I know that it's not all about destiny and fate. The way I feel for you is real. I know it is. It has nothing to do with a mate dream."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

No, he wasn't sure. "Would it matter, one way or the other?" he asked her.

"It would," she stated. She yawned again.

"Then I'm sure." He was, too! He knew he was. He stood up and took her hand, and ushered her to the bed. "Get under the covers, Princess."

She obeyed, because she could hardly keep her eyes open. Hermione sunk down under the covers, and he kicked off his shoes, placed his body on the outside of the covers beside her, and pulled her into his embrace.

"How's your arm?" she asked.

"I think it'll feel better after we visit the healing springs tomorrow. Milo told me there is hot springs, with refuted healing powers, and he would wake us early, and take us there. He wants to take Iver. Then he said that he's taking us to the village, and later, we need to exam the new body." His fingertips traveled up and down her nightgown-clad arm. She shivered from his touch. He felt intoxicated by her nearness.

"Granger?" he asked after a moment. She looked up at him as a response. "Does the story about the lost prince have a happy ending?"

Hermione had hoped he would forget about that story. She said, "It did. The prince and princess lived happily ever after, although fate had nothing to do with it. The moral of the story is that true love could be found anywhere, and that all that matters is that the feelings are real and reciprocated."

"What a sappy, sugary, and frankly, boring ending to what began as quite a jaunty little lark of a story. I'm a bit put out. No, I'm more than put out, I'm irked by that stupid ending. Does it have any fight scenes, at least?" He took her hand and made it into a fist, and pointed it to his jaw and said, "Do they at least have a fight, or a duel?" He made her hand hit him on the jaw. He dropped her hand and playfully hit her jaw with his fist.

"No, it's all sugary sweet, just like you said," she lied.

"You probably didn't read it very well, Granger," he accused. "There's probably a passage somewhere that you skimmed over about the Princess hitting the prince over the head with a boulder, or something."

"A folder?" she asked drowsily, with her eyes closed.

"Open your ears," he laughed. "I said a boulder."

She opened her eyes, laughed and said, "My ears are open, idiot, it's my eyes that are closed. I can't close my ears. But if she hits him with a boulder, it's not about us, because I hit you on the head with a folder in the hotel room, not a boulder."

"And a phone, and a few other things," he accused.

"The phone hit you on the back, not the head," she pointed out.

"Semantics," he said. "Also, I think I read that there was an evil ogre that bashed him on the face with his club, marring his bloody, good looks, and the princess, who was the shallowest woman on earth, no longer loved him."

"You're barking mad," she said. She sighed and closed her eyes again. "I might hit you on the head with my pillow if you don't let me get to sleep."

"I think it did say that," he argued. She was breathing steadily, her head on his chest, her hand on his stomach, his arm around her body. He stroked her face with his hand and said, "Sometimes you just have to read between the lines, Hermione."

"The lines," she repeated, sleepily.

"I think the princess comes to the village and thinks she can order the prince around, by being a bossy, know-it-all," he said. He only said it to see if she was sleeping, because he knew if she weren't, her pillow would hit him square in the face right about now. She didn't move a muscle. He added, "I also think it said that the prince and the princess have sex in the hot springs."

She suddenly sprang up in bed, and hit him twice on the face with her pillow. He brought his hands up to his face and yelled, "Watch my face, you evil ogre! Granger, not the face!"

"I think the princess castrates the prince, with a curse to the balls, because he won't shut up and let her get her beauty rest!" she shouted.

He pushed her over to her back and said, "Well, ouch, Princess, I'm not sure the healing springs could fix that problem." He hovered over her and smiled down at her. His hand went to her hair, to push it away from her brow. She reached up and cupped his face. "You do look like you need some beauty rest. I see a wrinkle by your left eye, right there." He leaned down and kissed beside her eye.

She said softly, "I don't have wrinkles. You just wanted to kiss me."

"Why would I want to kiss you?" he asked.

"You always want to kiss me. Now, let's go to sleep," she urged.

"See, you are a bossy, know-it-all. Maybe that book isn't an old book of fairytales after all," he said with a smile. "I know at least one part of the story was accurate, because I know the prince kisses the princess, and that is going to come true, right…about…now." He leaned over, with his chest pressed against her breasts, and he kissed her mouth.

He propped back up on his elbows, his stare traveled over her face, down her neck, to where the covers were pooled around her waist. He watched her heaving breasts with interest, lingering for a moment, before he brought his gaze back to her eyes. He cupped her cheeks with both hands, his elbows on the mattress beside her, and his voice caressed her body, just as surely as his hands did, when he said, "I could look at you all night and never tire of it. You mesmerize me. You're my everything. You are so beautiful, so full of life, and so good and precious, and I'll never let anyone or anything hurt you, and I'll never let you go. I know what I feel is real. I love you, Hermione. I really do." He hadn't meant to make such an affirmation, but the words flowed out of their own accord, and now that they had, he was glad.

Hermione didn't know what to say to such a statement. She looked over his shoulder, to the ceiling. She took a deep breath before she looked back in his eyes. She bit her lip, and tried to focus on his eyes, but they seemed as if they were too bright, too close, too everything! She closed her eyes, to avoid looking at him. Her hand went to his hair, on its own accord, and she was forced to open her eyes again, captivated by the strain of his stare. Her hand moved from his hair to his face.

Why did he have to say that he loved her? Why did he have to say all of that other nonsense? Why? Should she say something in return?

He moved his face slightly, to kiss her right palm, as her hand still cupped his face. His face was rough, he needed to shave, his lips were wet and sensual, her left hand clutched at his shoulder, and she was thankful that she was on her back, because if she were standing, she would have already fallen. The heat of his body on top of hers sent her senses swirling. She felt helpless, restless, and aroused.

He closed his eyes and his mouth and lips explored her palm. He held it in his hand, his tongue moving along the center of her hand, in small circles. It was the singular most erotic thing Hermione had ever felt. She stiffened under him, and then her body shivered again, a subtle movement, which intensified his need for her.

He had the taste of her in his mouth, the smell of her was in the air, he collapsed on top of her, placed his nose on her neck, and he said, "I want to make love to you, Hermione Granger." Inside, his mind was screaming, 'why don't you say something? Why don't you say that you love me in return?'

He covered her mouth with his again, and it was heaven. "Talk to me. Tell me what you feel. I told you." He kissed her again.

Her lips moved under his, and he gently probed her tongue with his own. She felt every hard muscle in his body through the blankets, pressing against her…his hard chest against her breasts, his thighs over hers, and she felt hot and overwhelmed.

She felt as if she was melting under the demands of his mouth, and the torture of his roaming hands, which had pushed the covers down more, and was now cupping her breasts. She trembled, clinging to him with her hands on his shoulders, as his thumb rubbed back and forth along her nipple, over her nightgown. She pushed him slightly away from her and said, "I thought we were going to go slow. Forgive me, but I won't have sex with you yet, Draco, not until I know if what we have is real. I can't tell you that I love you yet."

Then it was over, just like that, and she felt devoid of all feeling, and empty, and alone. An aching withdrawal pressed on her chest, and she felt bewildered and afraid. The reason was that he had moved away from her quickly, stung by her words. He was now sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to her, his head down.

She reached over and tried to touch his back, but the moment her fingers touched him, he stood, swiftly. She moved around, curled to her side, away from him, her hands clenched to her chest, and she asked for no explanation. He offered none as well. However, she did offer an apology. "I'm sorry, Draco. I do have feelings for you, but I won't rush things, and I won't let you rush things."

He turned to look at her, though she was facing the other way. He felt possessive of her, thrilled by her, shocked by the overflowing emotions between them. He also felt hurt by her words, betrayed by her hesitation to admit that she felt the same. He knew she loved him! He finally said, "It doesn't matter, Hermione."

"What doesn't matter?" she asked, perturbed, still not looking at him.

He was angry, with her, with himself, with the whole situation, so he said, "You're mine now. You belong to me. You're in my blood. You're a part of me, and it's real. It is, damn you, and nothing will change that. I love you." He hadn't meant to say all of that either, but he did and he couldn't take it back. He took a deep breath, and chastised himself for being so harsh with her. He was acting like a spoiled child who wasn't getting his own way, but he frankly didn't care. He hoped he hadn't scared her away, because his sudden outburst even scared him a bit. Perhaps his feelings were more than just love for the sake of love. Perhaps his Veela heritage, and his mate dream, did have more to do with the way her felt for her than he suspected. So be it.

That was all he said. He had denied his feelings for her for a long time, so he could never deny them again. He reclined back on the bed, as far away from her as he could, crossed his ankles, placed a pillow over his groin to hide his erection, and he said, "Goodnight, Princess. We have another body to examine tomorrow, and hot springs to go to, so you had better get some sleep." He looked over at her back and said, "I know it sounds bizarre, after all we've encountered, and after what just happened here, but try to have pleasant dreams."

"Ha, that's what you know, Prince," she said softly. "And it's not goodnight, because it's morning now."

"Then good morning, Granger." He stared at her back for a long time, and finally he reached over and touched her shoulder. She turned back toward him. He smiled. She moved back toward him, and placed her hand on his chest, her head beside his on the pillow.

She almost felt like crying. She hated that she rebuffed his advances, and that she had hurt his feelings, but she would not be forced to say that she loved him until she was ready. She was slightly afraid of his possessiveness and his declaration as well. "No, it's a bad morning, Draco Malfoy," she said, closing her eyes. "A very bad morning, indeed."

"Ha," he echoed her words, "that's what you know." It was a good morning for him, because when the light of day came, he was going to make Hermione Granger fall in love with him.


	28. Chapter 28 A Body and a Spring

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 28: A Body and A Spring:**

For many hours, Hermione and Draco held each other, but never said a word. She couldn't fall asleep, because she was worried about the case, about Draco, and about his passionate words. He couldn't fall asleep because she was still awake.

Around four in the morning, he started to tell her about his conversation with Cat. He told her everything they discussed. He also told her he wondered if Cat was being truthful when she said that she loved Iver. He said he was beginning to suspect that perhaps the young girl really had feelings for Milo.

That thought made Hermione wonder if perhaps Cat had something to do with the murders. She told Malfoy as much. He told her he wondered the same thing. She turned to her side, to look at him. He turned to his side to look at her.

Then at the same time they both said, "No, it's not Cat." They laughed, and then finally, they both went to sleep.

When Hermione woke up, she replayed that conversation in her mind. Could it be Cat? Draco said that she felt sorry for Milo. Was it more than that? Did she love him? Was she upset that she wasn't marrying him instead of Iver? Was she trying to prevent him from finding his mate? Wouldn't it be a trifle to convenient to pin the murders on Iver, getting him out of the way? This, of course, would then force Milo to marry Cat.

Hermione continued to think of these things even as she left her room to head for the breakfast room. She met Milo in the hallway outside the room. "Did you have a goodnight?" Milo asked.

She sighed and said, "Not really, no. Have you seen Malfoy? He was gone when I awoke."

"He slept with you last night?" Milo asked with one eyebrow in the air.

"He stayed in my room, yes," she answered, having no need to go into further explanation with the man.

"He's already eaten, and he's gone out with Cat. He'll meet us at the springs in a bit." Milo placed his hand on the small of her back and ushered her down the hallway toward the small breakfast room. Her foot became caught in a rug on the floor and she tripped. He reached out for her elbow, but she slipped through his grasp, and she braced her fall with her outstretched hands.

He reached down for her shoulders, and picked her completely up from the ground. She seemed startled. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

She held up the same hand that she had injured before. "Somehow my hand is busted open again. I don 't know how that keeps happening. It was almost healed."

"The healing springs will take care of that today," he said. He took her hand in his, held it gently, and then folded her fingers with his encasing hers. He reached inside his trouser pocket with his free hand and pulled out a handkerchief. He wrapped her hand and then to her utter shock, he brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her fingertips.

She stared up at him, breathing hard, and he said, "I won't apologize for that."

She pulled her hand from his and walked into the breakfast room, followed by Milo.

She felt self-conscious with only Milo as company, so she decided to make conversation. "Why does Draco always go off without me?" she asked, mostly to herself.

"Perhaps he has the need to get things done when you aren't around to distract him," Milo answered. He began to fill his plate. Hermione stood in the doorway with her mouth agape.

"Distract him?" she asked.

"Exactly," he said back. He sat at the head of the table and said, "Are you eating?"

She filled a plate and sat on the opposite side of the table. "I'm not distracting."

"Yes you are," Milo said.

She banged on the table with her fist and said, "I'm not."

Without looking at her he said, "You are." He took a bite of sausage and then looked up at her. "You are," he said again. "You distract me."

"Well you don't distract me, you irritate me," she said. He laughed at her. "Where's the body of the girl they found last night?" she asked, to change the subject.

"It's been placed in the dungeons here at Rhodeana castle," Milo said. "When you are ready to examine it, we'll take it anywhere you wish it to go."

"I wish I had the other bodies to examine. I might have it taken to London, so that I can examine it with the evidence from the other bodies," she said.

"No," he said. "Would that mean that you would be leaving?"

"Just for a day or two, but I would come back," she explained. "There's been something bothering me about Violet's death. Something about it that doesn't match the others."

"I thought you said her body was found the same as the others," Milo asked. "Drained of blood, same injuries, and same amount of preservation."

"True, but there's still just something in the back of my mind that doesn't mesh," she said.

Iver walked in the room and said, "What pleasant breakfast conversation…dead, mutilated bodies and the like." He sat next to Hermione.

"You look terrible," she said.

"Good morning to you, too, beautiful," he said back with a laugh.

"You do look horrible," Milo agreed. "More the reason why you need the healing springs."

"Will we be in danger, going to the springs?" Hermione asked.

"No, the other clans won't bother us, if that's what you mean, and they aren't far from here. They're on our land," Milo explained.

"Cat and Draco had a nice long talk last night, did he tell you?" Iver asked. Milo stood up, filled a plate for his brother, and set it down before him, but he pushed it away.

"I knew they spoke, yes," Hermione answered.

"What did they speak of?" Milo asked.

"They talked of mates, love, and all sorts of things," Iver said. He picked up a slice of bacon, but then placed it back on his plate.

"On that note," Hermione said, "can one of you explain to me why it is that some people fall in love with their mates, and sometimes they fall in love with someone else. I mean, what's the purpose of a mate if it's not the person you're meant to love for the rest of your life?"

"Well," Milo began, "that's the thing, Hermione, the thing that has many people in our village worried. The magic of our people is waning. The magic behind finding ones mate, and having that person be your one true love, no longer holds true, and no one really knows why, except to say that somehow, for some reason, the magic isn't as strong as it used to be. That's why they feared my father marrying my mother, because she was an outsider. That's why they fear me finding someone from the outside to marry."

"But why would that be?" Hermione asked. "Why would the magic be waning?"

"I'll take this one," Iver said to his brother. Milo shrugged as Iver answered. "It's because it's been allowed, since the beginning, for people to marry other than their mates, or so that's the belief. You see, when it was ordered, for blood and clan purity, many centuries ago, that one man from each family had to marry a member of their own clan, to keep their clans pure, well, that went against the mating rule, because many of these men couldn't marry their mates even if they wanted to, because of our laws. Also, the mating instinct comes from the Veela side, not the Vampire side, so it's not exactly something that was strong from the start, because the Vampire traits always seemed to be dominant."

"Furthermore," Milo interrupted, "it was deemed necessary, also around two hundred years ago, to arrange some marriages based on clan alliances, because some of the clans were becoming smaller, weaker, and others were getting more powerful, so arranged marriages became common to build a stronghold for a clan. That meant that even if a man had a mate dream, he might have to forgo that to marry someone from another clan, due to an arranged marriage."

Iver added, "So you see, our people did this to themselves. We've made the magic of mates weaker, by ignoring it, or by not giving it the proper respect, so now, the magic isn't as strong."

"In addition, no one uses the mating chambers any longer, they don't follow the ancient mating rituals, and there is hardly ever a blood exchange, which used to be deemed necessary for a proper bonding. Furthermore, some young men no longer have mate dreams," Milo offered. "It's not uncommon these days for it not to happen."

"I told you I never really had one," Iver added. "Not a clear one, anyway."

"This is fascinating," Hermione said. "It's evolution, at its most basic form. Fascinating, really. I wonder what some of the elders of your clans think about all of this."

"You'll find out, when we go talk to some of them today, after the springs," Milo said. He stood up, looked over at Iver, and said, "Eat a bit, won't you? I'll be back down to get you in a moment."

Hermione smiled over at him and said, "He's sort of a strange man, but at least he's caring brother, isn't he?"

"He's very strange and a pain in the arse, that's what he is," Iver said with a smile.

"I heard that," Milo said from the hallway.

Hermione and Iver both laughed. "Where's Cat at this morning?" she asked.

"I thought Milo told you. She went with Draco," Iver answered. "She wants to be more helpful. She said that she wants to discover who is doing all of this, so we can all get on with our lives. They went to explore some of the shallow caves that are in the rocky hillsides near the old castle."

"Oh yes, Milo did mention that. I just forget. Iver," Hermione said, leaning toward him, "I've been thinking. All of these murders seem connected, right? I mean, they all seem to be almost a crime of passion."

"Yes, so?" he said.

She wondered if she should continue, but before she could say a thing about Cat, Milo returned and said, "Are you both ready to go?"

Cat told Draco she wanted to take him to some caves that she and Iver explored as a child. He didn't see the harm, so he let her lead him to the caves. They were high in the hills, and they were nothing more than shallow cutouts in the rock face. They climbed the natural rock formations, and entered the first cave, or opening.

"When Iver and I were children, we used to hide from Milo in here," Cat explained. "He never found us."

"I find it hard to believe that Milo couldn't find you in here," Draco said, walking hunched over toward the middle of the small enclave. "These caves aren't very deep."

"Oh, he could have found us easily. We were only six and eight, and Milo was eleven or so. Yes, he could have found us easily, but he always acted as if he couldn't find us."

"Where's your mother, Cat?" Draco suddenly asked. Cat walked toward the opening of the first cave, and climbed out on the rocks, to climb upward toward the second opening. Draco followed.

When they reached the second opening, she sat down with her feet dangling high above the ground. He sat next to her. She finally answered. "My mother left my father and me when I was very young. She left our village completely. We went to live with Iver's parents, because my father was often gone, with clan business, so Iver's mother became my surrogate mother."

"It must have been hard on you when she died, then," Draco said.

Cat suddenly sprang up, walked toward the opening, and said, "I don't want to talk about that." She started to the front of the cave and Draco stood to follow. She lost her footing, and fell into him, pushing him into the rocky wall. He bumped the arm that he injured the night before on a piece of stone that jetted out from the wall. He tore his coat, as well as the sweater underneath. He winced, and took off his coat to look at his arm. He pulled his jumper over his head and saw a crimson patch on his torn shirtsleeve.

She turned to him and said, "I'm so sorry, Mr. Malfoy. Oh my, you're bleeding again."

"Yes, I guess I'm not very good at healing spells," he said half-heartedly.

"Good thing you're going to the healing springs today," she said back. She ducked through the opening, went to the rocky slope at the front of the cave, and started back down to the floor of the forest. Draco again started to follow. He bent low, to walk through the opening, but stopped suddenly, when he saw a familiar piece of white gauze sticking out of the rocky wall. He removed a few of the rocks, and then he saw it…another body.

"Cat?" he yelled. "Go get Milo and Hermione, now."

She started back up but then he shouted, "Don't come back up here, just get them now!"

Two hours later, Hermione, Milo and Draco had exhumed another body out of the wall of the opened cave. It had been covered with stones, in a crude sort of tomb. Cat and Iver stayed down below, on the path.

Hermione collected evidence from the body as Draco collected evidence from the cave. Milo stood by the opening and he said, "Only two more bodies from Dorchester are unaccountable now."

"Yes," Hermione said, as she took some hair samples. "All of these girls had dark hair," she said suddenly. "Odd."

"You know what's odder still?" Draco asked, coming to kneel beside her. He whispered in her ear, "That I was almost led to this body by our young friend, Cat."

Hermione looked over at Milo, who was staring outside. She nodded to Draco and whispered back, "I was thinking the same thing."

Milo walked back toward the pair and said, "Here comes MacNeill, Angus and Thom now. Angus and Thom are my first cousins. They'll take the body back to the castle."

Once they were outside the cave, Hermione said, "I think under the circumstances, we should all go back to the castle, and forgo the springs, don't you?"

"No," Milo insisted. "We must go on the spring. Iver needs it, and I suspect both of you need it as well."

"You and Iver go on," Draco said. "I agree with Granger. We should go with the body, and get to work."

"No!" he insisted louder. "It's imperative that you come as well. Please, I think you both could benefit from it, as well. The bodies will still be there."

"I'm coming, too," Cat said. "I don't want to go to the castle."

"Come with me, lass," her father said. "Ya not be needin' the healin' springs, gel. Leave it to Iver and Milo."

"I want to go," she begged. She looked at Iver and said, "I want to go with you."

Iver looked at his brother and said, "I don't see the harm. Let her come."

"I want her to go back with her father," Milo said, giving his brother a stern look. "My word is still law." He looked at Cat and said, "Go with your father and don't complain."

Hermione watched as Milo's cousins took the body away, and as Cat and her father walked away as well. She and Draco fell into step behind Iver and Milo, but Hermione purposely lagged behind, so that she could have a moment alone with Draco. They needed to talk.

Milo and Iver started down the forest path, assuming Draco and Hermione were following behind. Iver purposely walked ahead of the pair, knowing his brother would match his pace, so he could have a second alone to speak with him. When they were far ahead, Iver frowned and then said to Milo, "I don't like this one bit."

"I know, I don't either. I can't believe there was another body," Milo said. His brother turned on the path to face him.

"While that's terrible indeed, that's not what I meant!" Iver hissed.

Milo looked confused and asked, "What do you mean?"

He looked around his brother to see how close Draco and Hermione were, and when he didn't see them he said, "I don't like lying to them. They're here to help us! They're here to help solve these murders!"

"No, he's here to fulfill destiny, to bring our clans together, and to fulfill the prophecy," Milo said plainly.

Iver grasped his brother's coat sleeve and said, "And what if the rest of the story comes true? You know how the folktale ends!"

"We won't let it," Milo insisted.

"I still don't like lying to them. You're leading them to these springs, telling them that they're healing springs, when they're so much more. You purposely caused her to bleed today, I know you did, and Cat told me she caused Draco to bleed, under your bidding."

"Yes, and the springs will heal them, too," Milo said, though he too was frowning. "I'm doing what I have to do to save our people, Iver. It's all I've ever done. You should know that."

"And they should know the significance of the springs," Iver pleaded. "Please, Milo. Especially as he was injured and so was she. There might be a blood exchange in the spring."

"That's what I want," he said. "She's his mate. His Veela blood hasn't been diluted and the mate magic hasn't waned with him, so this is a perfect solution."

"I won't be a part of this," Iver decided. He walked ahead of his brother. Milo rushed up to his brother, and pulled him around.

"You will do exactly as I say. It's not as if I'm happy with this solution either! I had hoped she would be mine, but she's not. You will not say a word to them." Milo left it with that. He grabbed Iver's sleeve and dragged him toward the springs.

Draco looked up the path and could barely make out the other two men, as they were so far ahead. He took Hermione's elbow and said, "Iver and Milo are probably halfway to springs by now. Let's go back."

"No, it's probably best to follow them. You know, bodies are building up, Malfoy," she said. She looked down at the ground and said, "By the way, you left me again this morning, without even a goodbye."

"So?" He took her hand in his and walked with her down the trail. He kept a brisk pace, until he spied the other men, and then he slowed down.

"Should we talk about some things?" she asked.

"Like the weather?" he asked. "It's very cold, for October."

"Fine," she said, frustrated. "Yes, it's cold." She removed her hand from his and walked ahead slightly.

"Walking away from me isn't taking things slowly, Granger," he shouted. "That's more like avoiding things."

She stopped and waited for him. She took his hand and they walked along, to the springs. The path was narrow and littered with fallen leaves and timber. The forest was unusually quiet, with only the sounds of a waterfall breaking through the silence and peace. The trees grew denser, and soon, they stood before a pool of blue and green, the water of which was rippling and shimmering in the bright sunlight.

The pool was fed by a small waterfall that jetted from the hillside and rocks. Milo pointed toward an opening in the rocks and said, "Through this cave is an underground spring, which has healing powers. Iver is already in there."

"What about this spring?" Hermione asked, pointing toward the water in front of them.

"That's just a pool. There's nothing magical or healing about it, and it's not a hot spring, so I dare say if you tried to swim in there right now, you'd freeze, although many a summer days were spent here by my brother and I." He sat next to the spring and said, "Malfoy, why don't you go on into the cave, with Iver? Your arm will feel better in no time."

"What about Granger? She's bound to still feel poorly from all of her injuries," Draco pointed out. "She cut her arm that first night, when her car exploded and the glass from the window broke. She was shot, she cut her hand, and well, you know what happened in the chamber."

"Exactly, so she'll go in the springs after you two are done, unless you aren't bashful, and you all want to go in together. Iver's not bashful, I dare say he wouldn't care," Milo said. He gave Draco a challenging look.

Draco said, "Hermione and I will both wait until Iver is done, and then the two of us will go in together."

"I thought you might say that," Milo said, smiling.

Hermione sat on the narrow bank of the pool, far away from Milo, and watched the water swirling in front of her. She pulled on a long reed and moved it between her fingers. Draco sat beside her and said, "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that you should be angry with me, after last night, but you're acting very mature about the whole 'taking it slow' thing. I'm impressed." She turned and moved the long blade of grass across his face.

"Don't be," he insisted, batting the blade of grass away with his hand. "I am slightly angry. You know, I thought that you would be angry, too. I did say some strange things, you know; all that, 'you're mine' crap."

"Oh that," she said. "I forgot that." He turned to her; she turned to him, and smiled. She laughed and added, "Seriously, I figure that's just how you view things. You know, you are Draco Malfoy after all, and you're used to getting your way. I'm fine with you thinking that, as long as you're fine with me wanting to take it slow."

He shrugged. "I didn't say I was fine with it."

She said, "Did you know that Milo told me this morning that the magic of loving and finding ones mate is waning, and that not many of the young men from their village even have mate dreams anymore. It's fascinating, from an anthropology stand point."

"A what stand point?" he joked.

She wiggled the long reed on his cheek again. Iver walked up to them and said, "The pool's all yours now. I feel one hundred percent better. Milo is going to wait out here for you, and I'm going to head back."

Hermione and Draco stood and followed the little spring, to the rocky waterfall. They found the opening in the cave, and walked inside. Once inside, the whole cave was illuminated with natural light from an opening in the top of the cave. Sunshine came inside in rays, bounced off the walls, and cast the whole room in every colour of the rainbow, with the water acting as a prism to the natural luminosity.

"It's beautiful in here," she said. She walked over to the pool and bent down, to touch the water with her hand. "Oh, it's so warm, Draco."

"Good," he said. He seemed nervous. He paced by the edge of the water. Hermione stood up and watched him.

"Do you really mean to go in with me, or shall we take turns?" she asked.

"What do you want to do?" he asked. He knew what he wanted, but he wanted to see what she wanted.

"I'll have to go in with my underwear, so I should go in alone," she reasoned.

He was afraid she would say that. "Are you bashful now, Granger? If you're going in alone, just go in naked, and I'll wait over by the opening, then. Call me over when you've finished." He walked over to the opening of the cave, and sat down, his back toward her. He looked over his shoulder once, as she started to remove her coat and jumper. He turned his head back toward the outside.

Hermione quickly undressed, keeping on her knickers and her bra. She sat at the edge of the spring and lowered her feet slowly into the pool. Once she was certain that the water was warm throughout, she lowered her entire body into the water. She found that she could not touch the bottom, so she slipped her whole body underwater, touched the bottom with her foot, kicked upward, coming out of the water rapidly, rubbing her hands over her eyes.

The water felt glorious. Better than anything that she could ever imagine. Her body tingled. She closed her eyes and submerged again. She kicked away from one side to end up at the other side. She twirled in a circle, enjoying the way the water rippled over her arms and legs. She floated on her back and closed her eyes.

Draco stood up and walked over to the side of the pool, and watched her as she floated on her back, eyes closed. She wasn't aware he was there. He slowly removed all of his clothes, and lowered himself into the water.

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_A/N: Okay...this was a super long chapter, the longest yet. I hope you all likde it. I think you will like what's coming up next. I'm fearful that people are losing interest, because the last few chapters haven't gotten very many reviews, so perhaps I really should try to wrap this up quicker so people don't lose interest, although really, it's moving faster now, don't you think? _


	29. Chapter 29 A Love Scene and a Plea

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 29: A Love Scene and a Plea:**

Hermione felt the water ripple around her, and then she heard a slight splash. She quickly turned from her back, in time to see Draco lower himself into the water. He went completely under, and when he bobbed back to the surface she was on the other side of the pool.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Taking a bath," he said lazily. He kicked off the side of the rocky spring and was beside her in no time.

"Draco, this isn't taking things slowly," she said, holding onto the side of the pool with one hand, her other hand on his chest, as he was now in front of her.

"Did I agree to that?" he asked. He turned in a circle, went back under the water, came back up, and grabbed her by the waist. He pulled her away from the wall.

She placed her hands on his shoulders and asked, "What do you have on?"

"Nothing, why do you ask?" he asked with a slight smile.

"Oh, Draco, you really are a naughty boy," she said, seriously. "Let me go, okay?"

He let go of her waist, and he turned to his back. She turned so that she wouldn't see his body. She hung onto the side of the pool with both hands, and continued to watch the wall. She heard a splash, and she turned in time to see him heading underwater.

He came back up right in front of her. He didn't touch her; instead, he floated around her. She admired his chest and shoulders. He said, "The water feels wonderful, doesn't it? My arm is already better. It's no longer bleeding."

She reached over to his arm and her fingers skimmed the wet surface of his skin, touching the ragged indentation that was once the healing curse. She looked at her hand, and saw that it too was healed. He grabbed her hand, and rubbed the palm with his thumb. She trembled at his touch. She snatched her hand away from his, and turned her back to him again. He splashed her and laughed. "Granger, come now, why are you being so modest? It's just a swim in a hot spring."

He swam up behind her and placed one hand on her stomach. She felt slightly lightheaded at his nearness, and at his unquestionably naked state of being. She moved from his grasp and swam to the other side of the pool. He laughed and said, "The water makes your knickers transparent. Did you know? I just made out every dimple and mole on your backside as you swam across the pool."

She laughed and splashed him and said, "I don't have a mole on my backside!" She looked down to see if the water made her bra transparent as well. It did. She sunk slightly lower.

He said, "How far is the bottom of this thing?"

"Not very far. I can't stand in it, but I touched the bottom," she offered.

He said, "Let me check." He dove down and soon he was completely gone, under the water. She watched the waves surge around where he disappeared. She waited and waited for him to reappear. He didn't. She became worried and she called his name. She knew he was probably having fun at her expense, but she was still worried. She dove down toward the bottom to find him.

He whooshed back to the surface and smiled. Then he frowned. "Granger? Where are you?"

He looked out toward the darken recesses of the cave. She wasn't there, and her clothes were still by the spring. There was sufficient light, from the opening in the cave, so that they entire pool was wash with sunlight, but the rest of the cave was rather dark. He scanned the cave, looking for her. "GRANGER?" he shouted.

Then, he felt something grab his ankle and pull. He went under. She came back up, laughing. He came back up and splashed her in the face. "That was rude!" he said.

"You should know! I thought you drowned you were gone so long. Were you trying to make me worry?" she asked, still laughing.

"Yes, I was trying to make you worry," he admitted. "I thought you would yell for me, and start to cry and all. You didn't even miss me. By the way, when I was underwater, I could see you clearly, so you might as well take off your underwear."

"Oh, boo hoo," she mocked, "And I'm not taking my underwear off." He swam close to her and placed his arms around her waist, holding her tightly to him. She hugged him back. She touched his injured arm, which was merely a red, raised area, and asked, "Really, how's the arm now? Wasn't it bleeding again?"

"Yes, it was bleeding when Cat accidentally knocked me into the cave wall," he said, looking down at his arm. "It really is better." He took her hand in his, looked at it, and said, "I can't even tell you injured your hand, and one could never tell that it was bleeding earlier." He touched her arm, where she had been shot, and the skin was silky smooth. He touched the wet skin of her arm. She shivered.

"Are you cold?" he asked, with a gleam in his eye.

"These are hot springs," she said as her answer.

"Ah," he said back. "I misinterpreted your shiver." He kept his arms around her, kicked around with his legs, to keep them afloat, since her hands rested on his shoulders. She could feel every muscle and tendon of his body against hers. "You are trembling, though," he pointed out.

"That's from you, not the water," she admitted. Her eyes seemed bright, and the rainbow of colours from the sun bounced off the water and danced in her eyes. One of his hands went from around her waist to her back, and he caressed the skin there, going lower, until his fingers were under the elastic of her knickers.

"Take off these ridiculous things," he urged.

Her body bounced against his, as she relied on him to keep them both afloat. Her hands went from his shoulders, around to his back. One hand went down his spine. He closed his eyes and let out a jagged breath. The cave seemed intimate, the water seemed warmer, and their bodies began to meld together, no words passed between them.

He looked down in her eyes and he kissed her cheeks, first one, and then the other. They tasted like the sulfur water of the springs. She placed a hand on his cheek, leaned forward, and kissed his mouth, slowly, prompting him to open his mouth under hers. She lifted her face from his and said, "You do love me, don't you? It's not just mate magic?"

"Mate magic?" he asked with a laugh. He swam them in a circle suddenly, and then he took her hand and swam closer to the edge. Here, he could stand on the bottom. She still could not, so she kept her hands on his shoulder. "What is mate magic, Hermione?"

"Nothing, never mind," she said.

"I really love you," he said as his answer. "Why do you have to question that?"

"I don't know," she said softly. "It's just been so soon." She looked down at the water as she said it. He wanted her to say that she loved him, too.

He removed one of her hands from his shoulder, brought it to his mouth, and kissed her palm, then her wrist, then the inside of her forearm. He let go of her hands, his hands slid up and down her waist, to her hips. His left hand moved to her back, his right hand came up to her left breast. He rubbed his thumb back and forth across her breast, and soon, her nipple became erect. He bent his head and kissed it through the transparent silk of her bra.

She moaned, and threw her head backwards, her hair fanning across the water. He kept his hand on her back, to keep her from going backwards into the water. She continued to clutch his shoulders tightly. Her legs went around his waist, instinctually. His hands went down to grasp her bottom, and he began to kiss her neck and the valley between her breasts.

She felt exposed and vulnerable, as if Milo could come in at anytime, but before she could voice her fears, his mouth took hers in a hungry, frenzy kiss, which was as possessive as it was gentle. He worshipped her with this kiss. He proved he loved her with this kiss.

She closed her eyes, he continued to kiss her neck and her breasts, and all her fears subsided. He removed her bra and threw it upon the rocks by the rest of her clothing. His mouth returned to hers, his kiss reverberated throughout her entire body, and she found that she had no resistance to this man. He had broken through every barrier, and she truly felt, at this moment, that she belonged to him.

"You're so beautiful, Hermione, just as I knew you would be," he said against her neck. She realized her bare breasts were bobbing along the water, as he turned her around, and kissed her shoulders and her back. He cupped her breasts from behind, then his hands went slowly down her waist, to her hips, and he pulled her underwear off and threw it over his shoulder.

She turned to face him, treading water. She realized her entire world consisted of this moment, this man, and this feeling. He pulled her to him, and kissed one of her breasts, before he placed a nipple in his mouth. She clung to him, threw her head back once more, and gripped his waist with her thighs.

He slipped his hand between their bodies and began to stroke her, as she quivered against him. She arched away from him, but he kept one hand between their bodies and one hand on her back. He kept his feet planted firmly on the bottom of the spring and watched her as he brought her to near climax. Her eyes suddenly opened, she pulled on his arms, and then clung to his shoulders. She looked dazed, confused, and embarrassed. She pushed away from his arms, kicking water in his face as she found the side of the spring. She climbed out and hurried over to her clothes.

He wouldn't allow her to feel embarrassed. He jumped out of the water as fast as he could, pulled her toward him and kissed her again, harder, with need and want.

She pushed him away again and stood in the shimmering light of the sun and the pool, looking every bit the goddess, her chest heaving, and her eyes brilliant. She looked mystified and uncertain. He approached her slowly, his hand in front of him. She looked down his body, thought it was glorious, and then back in his face. He cupped the back of her head, and pulled her to him again. He kissed her softly. Then, he placed their coats on the ground, and he lowered her upon them. She rose up on her elbow to watch him as he came to lie beside her.

"What are we doing?" she asked.

"I'm finally claiming what's mine," he said. He wasn't making light, or a joke. It was how he really felt and he didn't care how absurd it sounded. She didn't know what to say to such a statement, so she lay back on the coats, closed her eyes, and listened to the sounds of the water rippling in the pool beside them. She felt a cold chill in the air, which was quickly replaced by his warm body.

He placed one hand on either side of her body, and leaned down toward her. His body skimmed across hers, slowly, as he leveled himself on top of her. Her nipples hardened, and her legs parted. Her eyes opened, as he rubbed his thumb across her bottom lip.

The sunlight from the natural skylight bounced off the features of his face, and she truly thought he was the beautiful one. She felt weak and powerless to stop the onslaught of what was to come. He filled her senses completely with male warmth, which was purely essence of him. She could only stare at him in wonderment. She cupped his cheek and said, "You're so beautiful."

He laughed and his head fell down into the crook of her neck. "That's my line," he said. "You stole it. I was about to say the same thing to you." Her lips parted again as his crashed down on hers, claiming her, wasn't that what he said? That was what it felt like.

"Say it, Hermione," he said, when he lifted his mouth from hers. "Say that you love me as much as I love you." Each word felt like a whisper to her soul. They flowed around her, just as the water had rippled around her early. His body crushed hers, caged her in, completed her, molded to hers. He began to kiss her everywhere…her face, her neck, her breasts, her ribcage, her stomach, her hipbones.

He rose back up, climbed up her body, and urged again, "Say it, Hermione."

She knew what he wanted to hear. She felt his erection on her thigh and she moved her hips slightly, and he moaned. "Draco," she whispered. She pulled on his back.

"I love you," he said. It was a proclamation, it was a sign, and it was a cue to her, because it was what he wanted her to say. Hermione shuddered at the sound of the words. He continued to utter the same three words, repeatedly, over again, as he kissed, teased, pulled, and suckled her breasts and nipples.

He chanted the phrase as he licked and kissed and bit the tender skin of her thighs, hips and legs. She reached for his hair, to bring his face up to hers, but he continued his pursuit, still saying, "I love you," between each form of the exquisite, pure torture.

He went lower still, hooked her knees around each arm, and he kissed and teased and tongued her core until her head went back and her cried filled the cave. His fingers tightened on her hips, as his tongue, and then his finger, continued to tease her sensitive bud. She climaxed fully this time, and as the tremors came and went, he climbed back up her body, held her tightly, and repeated his pledge. "I love you."

She wondered if she said the words now, would they seem empty?

He rained kisses all over her face and neck again. His hand went back to her breasts. She whimpered under his assault. She caught one hand in hers, and laced his fingers around her fingers. She brought his hand to her mouth and kissed the top of his hand.

He stopped and looked at her face. She sighed, and began to cry. He kissed away her tears. She said, "What do you want from me? I love you, Draco." She didn't say it because he wanted to hear it, but because she wanted, no needed, to say it, and because it was the truth.

"I want it to be the truth," he hissed, as his thighs wedged between hers, spreading her legs. He pushed inside her slowly, only a fraction and he held still. He held himself above her on his elbows and said, "I want you to say it because it's true."

She gasped, strained upwards toward him, arched her back, and said, "It's true, it's true, it's true." Everything turned to haze around her as he thrust into her, as far as he could go. Her arms tightened around him, and she knew it was true. She loved him, and she repeated the phrase, "it's true…it's true…it's true."

He continued to whisper words to her, but she could only hear the sounds of her heart beating with his, all other sounds sounded foreign, distant, mere echoes in her ears. He held her hands in his as he pushed onwards, her legs wrapped around his hips, he angled upwards, and claimed her as his.

He went faster and faster, in a whirlwind, a rush a pleasure passed through him to her, his pelvis grinding into hers, her head back, eyes shut, and she screamed out in bliss. He stopped for one moment, when they were both on the edge, and he said, "Tell me again. Tell me the truth."

She gasped, sighed, and with a shaky voice said, "I love you as much as you love me." He buried himself into her as far as he would go with one final thrust, and it was all over. He shook over her, she trembled under him, they held each other tight, and then everything went still.

Her fingers went into his hair, and she kissed his neck and shoulder. He rolled off her, but kept his arm and leg around her. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Why?"

"I didn't mean for this to happen like this," he explained. "I was overwhelmed with want and love for you. You'll start to think about this, examine it repeatedly, and you'll come to hate me for it. I know you will." He placed his face into the crook of her neck and hid there.

Her fingertips went down his back, and his muscles stiffened and went rigid under her touch. His hand slid down her arm, to her waist, to her hip, and pulled her over to her side. "Tell me you don't hate me," he urged, staring right in her eyes now. "Tell me you won't regret this, no, that you don't regret this."

She said nothing for the longest time. The silence was unbearable, torturous, the pain of her response flagrant, real. He was afraid to move. He put his face down on her chest. He was afraid to look up. He was afraid that all of this would be a dream, and she would be gone. She held all of the power. She held his happiness in the palm of her hand. One truth from her could either set him free, or send him to hell forever.

She urged his face toward hers with a finger under his chin. She looked in his eyes and all she could say in was, "I love you."


	30. Chapter 30 An Accusation and a Race

**All characters belong to JKR**

_A/N: I usually leave my notes for the end, but I wanted everyone to know that this is a short chapter, but necessary, because it will feed you a lot of information. Also, I got so many PM's from people telling me that they didn't get an alert for the last chapter, so I wanted to put a note at the beginning of this one to tell people to go read chapter 29 first, if you haven't 29 yet, go back and read it first, then read this little one. By the way...something big and rather surprising happens in the next chapter. People are going to be shocked. I can't wait to get everyone's reaction! Just a prior warning._

* * *

**Chapter 30: An Accusation and a Race**

After making love, Draco and Hermione swam some more, made love in the springs, swam some more, and made love a third time. Finally, Hermione decided that it was getting late, and she wondered if Milo was even still waiting for them. Draco said that Milo could go to hell and back. Hermione laughed, said that he had probably already been there, and then reminded Draco that they had a new body to examine.

That put a bit of a damper on things. They dressed quickly, but before they left the cave, Draco pulled on her arm and said, "Are we okay?"

"I should think so," she said. "I don't make love to just anyone, Malfoy, but more importantly, I don't say I love you to just anyone, either."

"Only to us really good looking chaps, right?" he joked as he helped her put her arms in her jacket.

"Yes, I'm that shallow that I only make love to good looking chaps," she said bitingly. He buttoned the buttons on her jacket, as he had done before, only this time, he wasn't embarrassed by the action. This time, it felt right. It felt intimate, but correct.

Before they left the cave, Hermione pointed toward some writing on the walls. "Light your wand and hold it up to those words, Malfoy."

"Is your wand broken?" he asked, although he did as requested. He moved the lit wand back and forth along the words that were above the opening of the cave. Hermione frowned. Draco looked at her and said, "It looks foreign."

"It's Celtic," she answered. "Do you have parchment?"

"Now where would I have parchment?" he asked. "Under my hat, oh, that's right, I don't have a hat."

"Don't be a rude bugger," she said with a smile. "All good Aurors should always carry around a pad of paper and a pen, like on those Muggle detective shows." She drew a small spiral notebook out of her pocket, along with a pen.

Draco lowered his wand and asked, "If you had a pen and paper the whole time, what was the point of asking me for one, Hermione? What was the point?"

She shrugged and said, "To bother you."

"Right, I've got your number, Princess," he laughed. She grabbed his wrist, pointed his hand and wand back toward the writing, and she copied the words.

She read the phrase silently from her pad. "_Eiridh tonn air uisge balbh cion annsa_." "There's no way I could even begin to pronounce these words. I'll have to ask Iver what they mean and how to pronounce them."

"That last word is 'beloved'. I know that because it's the name of the last sister, from the eight original Veelas," Draco said nonchalantly. Hermione looked at him with surprise and he said, "Don't look so shocked. I'm smart, and, remember, I told you that my family comes from the last sister, and that was her name. I already told you that. You're slipping, old girl."

"Old girl?" she asked. She stuffed the notebook in her pocket, grabbed his hand, and they left the cave, hand-in-hand, and once outside, they noticed that Milo was gone. Hermione had hoped that he would be, because she was sure he had figured out what they were doing in the cave, and she was frankly too embarrassed to face the man. Draco had hoped he would be gone, too, because he wanted to talk about the case to Hermione on the way back to the castle, without the other man present.

Walking along the forest, on the well-worn path, Draco said, "Did you know that Cat's mother left her when she was young?"

"No, I figured it was something like that, rather than a death, although I don't know why I thought that," she said. "That's a bit curious, isn't it? People don't seem to leave this village often, except by dying."

"I was thinking," he said, "Cat has very blonde hair, and is very fair."

"Just like you," Hermione laughed. "Maybe she's your long lost sister."

"Please, be sensible," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Her father is dark, as is almost every other member of the Prime clan. Milo's cousins today, Thom and Angus, they were dark as well," Draco observed.

"Remember how Iver explained that everyone either had the dark colouring of the Vampire heritage, or the fair colouring of the Veela heritage. I noticed that the men from the other night, the ones from the third clan were mostly blonde and fair," she said in return. "But yet, Cat has blonde hair, as you stated."

"Right."

"What's your point, Malfoy?" she asked.

"Perhaps her mother was from the Day people, too. On the other hand, maybe her mother was from another clan. Didn't you say that Iver told you that his father's mate was from the third clan?"

"And how is that significant to this case?" Hermione wondered aloud. "Why, do you think that Cat's mother was from the third clan?"

"She might have been, she might not have been, I'm just wondering," he mused. Hermione stopped walking and he literally ran into her back. He held onto her shoulders and said, "Sorry, Princess, but you're supposed to keep walking unless you want someone to run over you."

She turned to look at him and she said, "That's what's been bothering me!"

"The fact that someone might run over you?" he asked, sincerely.

She looked at him incredulously, clenched her hands into fists to keep from slapping him, and said, "No, the fact that all of the girls have had very dark hair and dark eyes, except for Violet. She was older, yes, but one could tell she was a blonde when she was younger, and her eyes were blue."

"But her death was probably the outcome of our investigation, or rather, because she helped us, rather than it fitting the mold of the other murders," Draco surmised.

Hermione asked, "And tell me, Mr. Auror, what is your assumption? Why do you think all of these girls were murdered?"

"Because they were all potential mates for Milo," he said.

"Exactly," she expounded. "This makes Cat a prime suspect in my book. We don't know that she's really in love with Iver, except for what she's told us. She could secretly love Milo, and she was originally meant for him, and perhaps she resents the fact that he wanders about the countryside looking for an outsider to wed, and the archeology students just happened to have the misfortune of being outsiders, also making them potential mates, according to that blasted book." She tore a small limb off a bush, whacked it across a tree, and said, "I have so much to do, Malfoy and not enough time to do it!"

"And beating up trees is item number one, I take it?" he asked sardonically.

Ignoring his blunt humour, she ticked things off on her hand. "I need to analyze that book, to determine its age, I need to do an autopsy on the new body, no, on two bodies, because of the one they found last night, I need to see which of the remaining girls they match, I need to re-examine all the DNA and hair samples, to make sure that Violet and Jennifer were the only ones connected to this place, and I'd love to sneak samples from Iver, Milo and Cat, but I'm not sure how I'd do that, plus we need to somehow find that last remaining body."

"You also need to use punctuation when you speak, because that was a bloody long sentence, Granger, dear." Draco took her hand and dragged her down the path. "And don't worry, I'll help, but I'll be busy myself. I have to write up a report for Harry, and once you've determined who this latest body was, and who the girl from last night was, by the way, don't forget her, we still have to contact Potter and the Ministry, as well as the Muggle Authorities. There are families to be contacted, and families to interview, to see if there's anything that would tie the missing girls to this place. See, I'll be busy, too."

"You need to get to the village as well," Hermione said, "Glendora, I mean, and ask around about Cat's mother, find out who she was, if she's still alive, and also perhaps about the woman who was cast aside by Milo's father, or they might even be one and the same. The more we know the better."

"You're so bossy," he said. She stopped and stared at him. He kept walking, but turned when he felt that she was no longer walking with him. He turned to her. "What? I like that about you."

"Right," she said, doubtfully. "I would love to know what type of magic Milo uses on the women to see if they're his potential mates. Isn't that what Cat told you?"

Now Draco stopped walking. He placed his hand on her chest to make her stop and he asked, "How is that pertinent?"

"What if it's a form of the Imperius? I told you, I almost felt that way when he touched me the first time. Maybe he's still our most likely suspect. Maybe he murdered those girls just to lure us here. He seemed to know exactly when we were in Dorchester, and you have to admit, someone blew up my car that first night, and I don't think it was to make us leave before we could come to Glendora, but to somehow isolate us more once we got here."

"Right," Draco laughed. "He's a serial killer, but his whole reason for killing was to get an Auror from the Ministry, along with his trusty, little Mudblood, know-it-all, scholar girlfriend to come to the village, but for what purpose, Granger?"

"Scholar?" she asked.

"That's the only word that bothered you? Not the Mudblood part? Not the know-it-all part or even the girlfriend part? The word 'scholar' bothers you? It was your word in the first place, remember?"

"I wasn't your girlfriend when we arrived, and according to the story about the lost prince, oh, never mind," she said. She stepped away from him, just as the trees grew dense again, and the castle came into view.

"What about the story?" he called out.

"You read it," she said, vaguely.

"I read some of it, and yes, the prince of the land tricks the lost prince as well as a girl from another village into coming to their land, he forces them to a bonding ritual, all to fulfill a prophecy to reunite their people into one people, forgoing individual clans. I read that part, but you don't really think that applies to us, do you?" Draco asked.

"No, of course not, after all, as you said, even if Violet did write that book, she couldn't have anticipated you and I coming to Glendora, could she? The story isn't about us." She smiled, but inside she was worried. "Besides, no one would ever mistake you for a ruddy prince, even though I've been calling you Prince Rude since day one."

"How does the story end, Granger? I know you're trying hard not to tell me." Instead of answering, Hermione began to run.

She shouted, "Last one to the castle has to kiss MacNeill on the lips!"

Draco cursed when Hermione began to run. He ran after her, grabbed the back of her coat, and spun her around. "Granger, how does it end? The girl doesn't kill the prince or something, does she?" He laughed, because he was joking.

She laughed, too, even though she felt beads of perspiration break out on the back of her neck. She said, "It's silly really, but it ends with the girl being forced to marry the dark prince, instead of the lost prince, and I guess I'm worried because I'd rather not marry Milo. He gives me the shivers." That part was true, also. In the story, after the girl accidentally kills the lost prince, the dark prince forces her to marry him.

"And not the good shivers, right?" Draco said, with a smirk. He grabbed her around the waist, and skimmed his nose along her cheek, down her jaw, to her neck, where he kissed her pulse point. He kissed his way back up her neck, up to her chin, to her mouth. Then he said, "Then it's a wonderful thing that story's not about us, because there's no way in hell I'd let you end up with that ponce."

"Good thing, that," she said with a smile. She hugged him, and prayed he was right. She pushed away from him and said, "The last one to the castle has to kiss Milo Dorchester on the lips for three minutes!"

Draco swung her around her waist, picked her up, and threw her lightly on the ground, and then he jumped over her and ran as fast as he could. Hermione said, "Hey, that's cheating!"

Draco wasn't above cheating. He turned back once, and saw that she was still on the ground. He yelled, "Hurry, Granger, I don't want you to have to kiss him either." Then as he continued to run, he muttered to himself, "No bloody way will I ever let him have you. Ever. I'd kill him myself first."


	31. Chapter 31 A Lesson and a Lie

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 31: A Lesson and a Lie:**

"How do you say it again?" Hermione asked Iver. He leaned closer to her, said the words in Gaelic again, and when she tried to repeat it, he laughed.

"You're holding your mouth wrong," he said. "Let's face it; you and Gaelic don't mix."

"Just teach me one more time, please. I'm usually a quick learner. Maybe you're just a terrible teacher."

"Right, the lesson is bad, or the teacher, or the material, but not the student," he said with a smile. However, he said the words again, and she repeated them the best she could. He reached over, held her mouth with his hand, and said, "You aren't rolling your tongue the right way, and you're holding your mouth wrong." He pinched her mouth into a pucker.

Then they both laughed again.

Draco walked in the room that they used as an office at that precise moment. When he saw Iver holding Hermione's face, and Hermione smiling at the man, he felt a wave of jealousy so strong that it almost knocked him over. "Having fun holding hands with Iver while I was out interviewing the dead girl's parents, Granger?"

Iver let go of Hermione's face quickly. She looked over toward Draco and frowned. Iver sat back and said, "Did you say you interviewed the dead girl's parents?"

"Yes, that's what I said," Draco said sarcastically. "First, I spoke with the Muggle authorities. Then I went with them to tell the poor parents that their daughter, who has been missing for two years, was found, but we can't release her body yet. Of course, I couldn't tell them that I couldn't release the body yet because it's so mutilated, yet so well preserved by magic that we'll have to alter it before they get to bury it. Then I had to ask them for something with their DNA on it, so we could make sure that the identity is correct. Then I had to watch them cry when they realized that the last sprig of hope they had that perhaps their daughter might someday come home was finally gone."

"I'm sorry, Draco, I know that must have been unpleasant, but so was the autopsy," Hermione stated. "I've just finished the autopsies on both bodies, so I needed a bit of levity, so I asked Iver to help me translate the words from the hot springs."

"Good for you," he pouted. "Iver, go away. I need to talk about the case with Hermione and I'd rather not talk with you in the room."

Iver raised his eyebrows, turned to Hermione and said, "He comes by his title, Prince Rude honestly, doesn't he?" Then, he walked out of the room.

"What's really wrong?" Hermione asked.

Draco plopped down in a chair by the worktable. He hung his head low, his hands clasped between his legs. How could he tell her that the main thing bothering him was that he was jealous that Iver was touching her? How could he feel jealous when Iver was merely laughing with her? He wasn't jealous of the man, he posed no real threat to his relationship with Hermione, so how petty would that make him seem? He was more upset about that than about the murders. "This case is wearing on me, Hermione," he finally said.

She walked up to him and stroked his hair. "You said you talked to one of the girls' parents. Which one?"

He sighed and said, "The body we found today. Kay Lester."

"And the body the third clan found last night, who is she? We have two girls missing still, and one body. Did you find out?" Hermione asked.

He shook his head no. "No. We'll have to look at the pictures Potter sent us again, and try to figure it out, and then I suppose tomorrow I'll have to go back to the village and do all of this all over again with another set of parents."

"I am sorry," she repeated. "Since you weren't able to go into the village of Glendora to ask about Cat's mother, I asked Iver about her, I hope you don't mind." She sat down on his lap. He placed his arms around her.

"What did he say?"

"Not much, because he barely remembers her. He told me her name, and where she's buried, but get this, Draco, he says she's not the witch who was betrayed by their father, as we suspected. She was, however, from the third clan, much like that woman was."

"Maybe they were related," he surmised.

"We'll go to the graveyard tomorrow, and find out. Iver didn't know her maiden name, which I find odd, since this is such a small village, but the name of the woman their father left for their mother was Cairison Doaglone, and Cat's mother's first name was Cairistona. That's pretty similar," she pointed out. "I didn't want to ask MacNeill or Milo anything, for obvious reasons."

"Of course," he said, rubbing his eyes. He pushed her from his lap and said, "On that note, Potter met me in the village. He told me to give you these." He pulled an envelope out of his jacket. "You wrote that you wanted the DNA samples from all of the other victims. He said that Aurors would be here in the morning to get the last two bodies."

"I wish I could have seen him. I miss him. I miss my parents, too. I wish my mobile phone worked here," she complained taking the envelope he gave her and placing it on the table. She sighed and added, "I feel guilty that I'm complaining about missing my parents and friends, when I've only been away from them for a week. Yet, some of these girls have been missing for years."

Draco held open his arms and she came back to his lap. "I'm sure they miss you, too, Hermione. And it's okay to miss your family. Now missing Potter is another thing." He smiled, but was shocked when she suddenly jumped off his lap and waved her arms in the air.

"We need to find that last body!" Hermione blurted out. "We can't even begin to solve this puzzle until all the pieces are in place! I've decided to try to find it by the jewelry." She began to pace in front of him. "Both of the new bodies had the same jewelry on, the one from today was a bracelet, and the one from last night was a necklace. Tomorrow, we'll set off to search for that last body by searching for the metallic formula that's unique to that jewelry. I think it might be some sort of conduit, which drew the murderer to his victims. I think I've come up with a spell that will locate the properties of the jewelry. We find the jewelry - we find the last body. If for no other reason, we at least need to give all of the families' peace of mind, right?"

"Believe me," Draco said, standing up and finally taking off his jacket. He threw it across the back of his chair. "If you saw those parents today, you would know that they'll never have peace of mind."

"I know," she said sadly. "I know. It's well past dinner. Do you want me to have a servant bring up something?"

"I ate in our favourite little pub," he said. "They asked for you."

"I bet," she laughed.

He laughed back and said, "Yes, they said, when is that pretty witch with the curly hair coming back so we can burn her at the stake? I told them we would pass back that way when we finish with the case."

"How kind of you," she said acerbically. She picked up a piece of paper from the worktable and held it under his nose. "This is what Iver and I were working on when you walked in a minute ago. Iver wrote the English translation below it." Hermione handed him the piece of paper with the phrase from the cave.

She leaned over him and said, "Essentially it translates to: _A wave of desire will rise on the quiet water when I share love with my beloved. _I can't begin to say the Gaelic words, as you can attest to by my feeble attempt when you walked in the room. That's an odd quote though, don't you think?"

"Is it?" he asked. "Everything about this place is odd." He handed the paper back to her.

She sat on the table, placed the paper beside her legs, and bit down on her bottom lip. She began to swing her legs back and forth. He sat back on the chair and rubbed his hand over his eyes. He looked at up her and said, "Get on with it; you apparently have something else bothering you. You're all pensive acting."

"I'm not pensive. I am worried about something, though," she admitted.

"That goes hand-in-hand with being Hermione Granger, I would think," he said with a smirk. "Tell me your woes and worries."

"I was worried about the cave with the hot springs. All the markings and the words over the cave's doorway, and the healing properties of the waters, well, it all seems significant, somehow. What if it was a mating chamber and Milo tricked us into mating?"

"You mean Milo forced us to do the nasty?" he asked.

She kicked him with her foot, which he grabbed. He released it when she said, "It wasn't nasty! And that's not what I meant. Wait, did you feel forced? I didn't feel forced."

He studied her for a moment, and then thanked the stars above for that. The dream where he raped her was still fresh in his mind, even after they had made love, he thought of it, and he was quite proud of the fact that he hadn't acted on that horrendous dream. "What do you mean, Hermione? Cut to the chase."

"I didn't mean we were forced to make love, or even tricked, but what if that chamber was originally used for that, and what if the healing springs were used for some mating ritual? In the book of folktales, there were springs that were used for mating rituals, and the first part of any mating ritual is a blood exchange. Remember what Iver told me? His father had already exchanged blood with his mate. What if, and I know I'm stretching things, but bear with me, but what if Milo purposely bumped me earlier, and caused me to cut open my hand again, causing it to bleed? What if Cat purposely caused your arm to bleed again? What if they did this so that we would exchange blood in the water?"

He wanted to scoff at her theory, but before he could say something scathing, he thought about it, and he realized that she was probably right. "So, according to your little book of folklore, blood exchange happens during mating?"

"Kind of, it's the first step," she said. "What if Milo, for some odd reason, is speeding things up for us."

"Out of his great benevolence toward you and me?" Draco asked contemptuously.

She shrugged and said, "No, I hardly think he did it for you and me. That man only acts for himself, although he pretends he acts on everyone else's behalf all the time."

"Why do you hate him so much?" Draco asked seriously.

"Why don't you?" she asked back. "That's the better question." She hopped off the table and said, "Besides, I don't hate people. I merely dislike some of them."

"Milo being one of them?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I just don't like him," she said plainly.

"That's not a reason. Is it because you're attracted to him?" he asked, afraid of what her answer might be.

"No!" she protested. "I still think you should dislike him as much as I do, however. Maybe you DON'T dislike him because you ARE attracted to him," she scoffed.

"Sorry, but I'm only attracted to irritating, bossy, former enemies, and as for Milo, I don't know why I don't dislike him any longer, but I don't. I think he's had a hard row to hoe, so to speak. I don't really like him…that's too strong of a word, but neither do I dislike him. I don't think of him either way. He's the epitome of apathy to me. I would describe my feelings for the man as the ultimate ennui." Draco sat back in the chair, pulled his jumper over his head, and threw it on the floor.

She leaned down, picked it up, sniffed it, (which made him smile) and then she placed it on the back of an abandoned chair. "Epitome of apathy? Ennui? My oh my, Malfoy's been learning some large words again. Sneaking peeks at the dictionary when no one's around, Malfoy? Trying to keep up with me?" He pulled on her hand, then snaked his arm around her waist to force her to sit back on his lap.

"Make fun of me if you want, it sort of turns me on," he whispered in her ear.

He placed his hand on her face, forcing her to face him, and his lips sought hers, claiming them as he had earlier. He felt all the tension, stress, and fear from earlier slip away as his tongue played with hers. She trembled under his hands, arched her back, and turned as much as the arms on the chair would allow. She eventually turned around to face him, straddled his body, going to her knees, a knee on each side of his thighs. She grabbed his face with her hands, clutching him close, desperate for his kiss, his touch, his feel.

She raised her head and gasped for air. Breathlessly, he smiled at her, placed one hand behind her head, and brought her face back to his, so that he could taste her again. Her breasts pressed against his chest, his groin up against her, and even though they were fully clothed, the heat of their bodies passed from one another, and they both moaned at the same time. Hermione's hands were still on his head, in his hair, gasping, holding, containing. His hands were still on her back, pressing her ever closer, and then closer still.

She held back, even as he urged her onward, and she climbed off him, though her legs were weak and wobbly. He hung his head back, closed his eyes, and whined, "Nooooo! Come back."

"Draco, not here, not right now."

"Are you even human?" he asked, now standing in front of her. He closed his eyes again, in frustration. She looked slightly hurt, but he opened his eyes, and smiled, so then she decided he was joking, so she smiled back. "You'll be the death of me someday, Granger."

"Don't even joke about that," she said, her arms going around his waist, her head on his chest. "Anyway, I think it's the other way around, you'll probably be the death of me."

He stroked her back and said, "Then let it be a pleasurable death, Princess. I'll kill you with sex, how about that? By the way, I got you a present when I was in the village of Dorchester. If I give it to you, will you get back on my lap and kiss me some more?"

She looked up to his eyes and said, "A present from Dorchester? It's not fish and chips is it?"

"Hardly." He reached in his trouser pocket and pulled out a small, black, velvet pull-string bag. He handed it to her. "You might want to revise your plan to search for the last missing girl by her unusual piece of jewelry, because inside this pouch is something that will blow the theory about the rarity of this jewelry to pieces."

She opened the bag, inside was a necklace with the same emblem that was on all the jewelry from the dead bodies. She turned it around; on the back were the same small symbols. "Where did you get this?"

"A gift shoppe in Dorchester. I bet all the girls got them there. There were many more there, so they aren't very extraordinary. I asked the clerk about the emblem, and she said, get this, that she didn't know what it meant, but that the late Violet Edgewater made all of the jewelry that they sold that had that symbol. I went past her bookstore afterwards and noticed that indeed, this little emblem, the one on the front of the necklace is on her sign out front."

"How did we miss that?" she asked, fingering the necklace that she had taken from the bag.

"We didn't know to look for it, did we?" he asked back.

She frowned and said, "The jewelry is still made up of some rare material, so whether it was made in Glendora, as suggested by Milo and Iver, or by Violet in Dorchester, we can still use it to search for the last girl. I still think it was a way that the killer tracked the girls."

"I don't think the Dorchester brothers told us that the jewelry was from this village. I think they just said that they looked old, and they assumed artisans in their village made them, because of the symbols. They also told us what the symbols meant. Why are you so intent to bring them into all of this?" Draco quizzed. He took her hand and held it up to his mouth, and then he kissed the top. He took the necklace from her hand and placed it back on the table, on top of the little bag.

"Intuition tells me Milo Dorchester is hiding something," Hermione Granger announced. "And I'll find out what it is if it's the last thing I do." She looked back over to the necklace and said, "I should wear it. Maybe if I wear it downstairs, it will unnerve the Dorchester brothers. Maybe it will even draw the murderer out."

"Leave it be," he said, because he had thought of the same thing.

She looked at him surprised, reached for the necklace, but he blocked her path, and grabbed her hand again. "You said it was a present for me! Are you now going to take it back?" she harped.

"I only meant to show it to you. I didn't give it to you to keep, after all, we aren't at the jewelry stage of our relationship yet," he joked. "I only give jewelry after a girl sleeps with me at least five times. Now, if you'd like to go to my room, we might work something out." He wiggled his eyebrows.

She took his hand and concluded, "No. I think we should go get something to eat instead. I'm starved. I don't need a piece of jewelry from you anyway, to know how you feel about me. You love me, Draco Malfoy." She smiled, pleased with herself. She glanced over at the necklace as they walked by the table. She could try it on later.

He smiled, pleased as well. They walked out of the room, and he only glanced back at the necklace once.

Later that night, as the moon hung high in the sky, and the castle was uncommonly quiet, she walked into the third floor tower room, which was used as their office. She looked at the papers and photographs that littered the workspace, but then her gaze went immediately to the necklace, which was left on the table. She picked it up, fingered it for a moment, and then she placed it on her neck.

She wasn't sure why she wanted to put it on, but she did. She went over to a small mirror, in a black frame, which hung by the door to the room. She looked at her reflection, and stared at the necklace as it lay upon her chest, the ivory of her skin contrasting with the silver hue of the emblem.

"What do you mean?" she asked the reflection. She looked at the emblem closer, and then she let the necklace drop back to her chest. Suddenly, something banged loudly on the turret above her. She walked over to the window, and looked outside. She was greeted merely with the darkness of the hour. She took a step back, stared at the darkness, seeing only her own reflection, when suddenly, something black, bigger than a bird, smashed into the window beside her with another loud bang, causing the window to crack down the middle, though it didn't break. She jumped away in fright.

She heard another loud noise, as if someone, or something, was hitting the side of the stones with a mallet. She grabbed Draco's coat from the back of a chair, pulled her arms into it even as she ran from the office, toward the stairs that would lead to the top of the tower. She climbed the stairs, and threw open the door.

She looked all around, and saw nothing but more of the same…darkness, night, minimal light from the moon. She walked all around the top of the tower, but she saw nothing. When she was certain there was no one there, she walked to the door.

It was closed. She had left it open. Her hand went to the handle. She heard a loud wailing noise, like the noise a bird makes when it caws. She looked up in time to see a giant, black bird like shape swoop down upon her. It turned into a human, but she had no time to process anything, because the last thing she remembered was the feeling of teeth upon her neck, of blood pumping from her heart, her pulse slowing, her breathing becoming shallow, and sharp, stabbing pain, as a talon sliced open her skin.

She didn't even have time to scream before she died.

* * *

_A/N: I wonder who died?_

_Sorry this update took a while, even though the chapter was done and returned to me by my beta. I was in the Hospital again, from Tues to this afternoon, Friday, because of Kidney problems again. I'm feeling better now. My beta wants to believe this was another one of Draco's dreams, and if she wants to delude herself into thinking that, poor woman, she can…but I assure you, it was not a dream. Am I now the official queen of cliffhangers? Everyone better hope I don't go back into the hospital before I can get my next chapter out…or you'll be waiting forever to see what's happening!!_


	32. Chapter 32 A Sigh and a Sign

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 32: A Sigh and a Sign:**

_Earlier, that same night_:

Hermione Granger sat at a tall wooden table in the kitchen of Rhodeana castle, eating a ham sandwich, drinking ale, and pouting. She was angry about the lack progress with the case, she was angry that she couldn't test her theory about the jewelry, she was angry that she didn't get to see Harry in the village, and well… she was angry with Draco. How dare he act as if his job was more important, or harder, or…what was the word he said to her earlier? Oh, yes, how dare he imply that he was 'wearier' than she was?

As she continued to eat, her anger began to ebb away, eased by nourishment and by her time alone, where she pondered everything he had told her earlier. Of course, he was weary, but so was she.

Earlier, when they left the workroom, she asked him if he wanted to go with her to the kitchen so she could ask Cook to make her a sandwich. He frowned, his forehead crinkling as the scowl passed over his entire face. "Why can't you just have food brought up to my room for you? I don't want to go all the way to the kitchen. I'm tired and like I told you, I've already eaten."

"I know, and I told you that I hadn't, and I thought you would keep me company," she said, equally irked.

He sighed. "I told you Hermione, I'm very tired. I just want to go to bed. I feel broken down and weary. But, fine, I can see that we'll always have to do what you want in this relationship. That's how it's been from the beginning…bring your car, go talk to the bookstore lady, examine runes in an ancient chamber. It's always about you and what you want. So in keeping with the way things have gone so far, let's go to the damn kitchen!" He started toward the back staircase that would take them to the kitchen.

"Draco," she said, bringing her hand out to his arm to stop him, "I don't know whether you're delusional, or just tired, but why are you trying to pick a fight? And what do you mean, I always get my way?" She placed both hands on her hips and said, "May I remind you that if we had brought your car, it would now be blown to bits, instead of mine, and also, we gained a wealth of knowledge from Violet Edgewater."

"What did we get from going down in the original castle's dungeons?" he asked, mirroring her body, hands on his hips.

"Are you joking?" she asked, because she simply didn't know where to start to answer _that_ question. It too, was a wealth of knowledge, and he knew that!

"I'm just saying that I brought you along to help me solve this case, Granger, so help me solve the case!" Now Draco was speaking irrationally, he knew it, and he wasn't sure why he was doing it. HE WAS JUST SO WEARY!

She stumbled on her words…she was speechless. "I…you…what?" She turned, then over her shoulder said, "I don't even want you to eat with me now. Go up to your room, tired boy!"

He called out, "I just wish you knew how I felt! All I wanted was for you to come with me to my room so I would have someone to talk to!"

She left him in the hallway of the third floor, went to the basement, to the kitchen and asked Cook to make her a sandwich. On the off chance, that Draco might seek her out to apologize, (though she knew that was a long shot) she stayed down in the kitchen, instead of taking her sandwich to her room, so that she could avoid him.

She knew he was upset about the case, but damn him, he never really articulated his feelings before, so why was he 'Mr. Talkative' tonight? He never told her how he felt, he always kept things bottled up inside, and in a way, she wanted to keep things that way. She couldn't handle his feelings on top of her own right now. She just couldn't.

Of course, perhaps it was a good thing that he wanted her to come to his room so that they could talk. Maybe now would be a good time to draw him out. If she wanted a lasting relationship with him, his thoughts and feelings should matter to her. She ate the last bite of her sandwich, thanked the cook and her staff for opening the kitchen to her, then she set off for Draco's room.

While walking up the stairs, she began to think about the necklace. The whole reason she wanted him to go the kitchen with her was to explain to him that she had devised a spell that would draw them to the magical proprieties of the unique metallic material of the jewelry. She would go get the necklace first, show him the spell, and then she would listen to his feelings. She really did want to listen to him, and find out what he was feeling, and comfort him, but first she wanted to show him the spell.

Also, a small part of her wanted to prove to him that her being here did matter, that she was a help, and that she COULD and WOULD help him solve this case.

In the interim, she might comfort him a bit as well. She walked down the hallway and entered the office.

_Also, Earlier that Evening:_

Cat was lying on her bed, when she heard a knock at her door. She was too tired to get up to answer it, so she merely said, "Come in."

Iver poked his head in the room and said, "Hey, are you ready for bed?"

"Yes," she said softly. He walked up to her bed, and brushed her long hair away from her face. Then he leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Where did you go after dinner?" she asked.

"Hermione wanted me to help her translate some Gaelic words that they found in the cave of the hot springs," Iver explained. "We were having a good laugh until Malfoy came along. He really is a rude bugger. He started to…"

She sat us quickly, and interrupted him by saying, "Their bonding has started you know. They exchanged blood in the spring. Milo had me help him! I made sure Mr. Malfoy's cursed arm bled again. Milo knows I can help and that I'm useful. There are only two more rituals, and the bond will be complete."

Iver regarded her a moment, then said, "I know."

"So she's his, Iver," she said quickly. "Not yours, not Milo's, HIS!"

"I know!" he said emphatically. "I don't think of her that way. I'm her friend."

"I see how you look at her. I see how Milo looks at her. You both could still try to claim her after the blood bond, though you shouldn't you know. She doesn't love you. She loves him and he loves her. Leave them both alone!"

Iver stood from her bed. "Where is all of this coming from, Cat? I don't want to claim Hermione. I'm her friend, and that's all. I want to help them both, Malfoy and her. I want to help solve these murders and get back to our lives."

She plopped back down on the bed, her head almost buried in the pillow, and she said, "What life? The life of lies? The life of aimlessness. The one where you and I merely continue to exist together, never taking it to the next level?" She looked back at him and said, "When will we begin our bonding? When will we marry? I love you, Iver. I want to get married!"

"You know why we can't marry yet. We need to find a cure for my ailment, besides, Milo won't allow it, and as head of the clan, and Prince of the people, he has to give his blessing," Iver reminded her.

"Yes, and how convenient for you, since you don't want to marry me anyway! How do you think that makes me feel, Iver?" she harped. She turned so that her back was facing him. "Go away, Iver, but leave Hermione alone. She's not your mate."

He placed his hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off. "I'm sorry, Cat. I didn't know you were so upset by our friendship."

She said, "You know, I could help with the case, too, if you all would let me. I'm not a child who needs to be protected. Not any longer. I could help you, too, with your affliction. I could help you the way Milo does. We would have a good life, but you don't love me as much as I love you, and you never will." She turned to her back and looked up at his face. She could tell by his pained expression that she was right.

"I'm so sorry, sweet girl," he said. He reached for her cheek, and cupped her face. "First, you could get hurt, and that's why we don't want you to have anything to do with the solving of these murders, or anything to do with my illness. And, I do love you, but I can't help it if I'm not in love with you. You're like my little sister. I don't see you that way. I don't know if I ever will. Perhaps we should have Milo release you from your betrothal to me. You deserve someone else…someone who will love you, and give you what you want." Before she could respond, he turned sharply and exited her room.

She sat on the side of the bed and sighed. She decided that she would prove him wrong. She was smart, as smart as Hermione Granger was. She could help find the murderer. She knew she could. In addition, she was pretty, perhaps prettier than Hermione. The most important thing was that she loved Iver, and she would make him love her. She slipped off her bed, out her door, and headed for the room that Hermione and Draco used as an office. She would find something there to help her help Iver. She would.

_That same evening:_

Draco watch Hermione as she stormed down the hallway and he called out, "I just wish you knew how I felt! All I wanted was for you to come with me to my room so I would have someone to talk to!"

He practically ran to his room, threw open the door, and then he slammed it shut as hard as he could. He slowly walked to his bed, sat down, and hung his head. He felt so fatigued. He was weary from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. He wanted all of this to end. The truth was, he felt weary because HE wasn't helping with the case. He felt she was doing everything, taking all the risks. He felt that he was an appendage, a mere tool, and he didn't know what to do. He hated feeling helpless. He hated it more than anything, even more than he hated feeling weary.

He felt bad for the murdered girls, their families, and for Hermione. She didn't deserve any of this. He should have kept her from this. He should have insisted that she stay behind. He wanted her here with him because he was selfish. He wanted to bond with her, as odd as that sounded, so in the very beginning he suggested to the head Auror that they seek her help. It was because of him that she was in constant danger, and that she was tired and hurt, and instead of being a comfort to her, a companion, a lover, a protector, all he could do was whine that she didn't understand how **he** felt.

Even though he had eaten earlier at the pub in the other village, he should have escorted her to the kitchen. It was all the way in the basement, and she might have been afraid, not that she would have admitted that. Maybe she asked Iver to go to the kitchen with her.

He sighed again. Well, no rest for the weary, he thought. He stood up and then smiled when he realized the real phrase was, 'no rest for the wicked'. That could apply to him as well, because he really wanted to make up with Hermione so that he could make love to her again. He went over to the desk in his room, wrote up a quick report for Potter, signed and sealed the parchment, and then he rested his head on his hand.

He thought about the experience in the hot springs with Hermione and he concluded that it was singularly the most amazing, _right_, thing Draco had ever done in his life. She was right for him in every way. It was a pity it took him so long to notice.

The real pity was that it took this place to bring them together. He was beginning to like it here. He felt calm and reassured here. With the exception of that one evil chamber, he liked almost everything about this village, even the people. He had a true affinity for the place, and he even contemplated staying here after everything was over, but he knew that she would always equate this place with the murders. She would never want to stay here, and since Draco couldn't fathom giving Hermione up, he would go wherever she went, even if it was to the end of the earth and back again.

Yet he wouldn't go to the kitchen with her. He was so stupid! He stood up from the desk, determined to find her. As he walked, he thought of his future, a future with her. He knew he didn't want to continue being an Auror. He only became one in the beginning to justify some of the wrongs he had done in the past. He wanted to right them, in his own way. He wanted to feel worthy. He wanted to make a difference. He wanted to prove that he wasn't a bad person. He wanted to do something good with his life.

If he couldn't find the murderer of these young girls, he would never be able to prove to anyone that he was good enough. Hermione was good. She was good, caring, decent, smart, and he would never be good enough for her, but he wanted to try to be. Maybe there was something to this whole prophecy thing. Maybe he was meant to come here, make a difference – both in solving the murders and finding his mate. Maybe he was meant to bring these people together. Everyone needed a place in the world, and maybe, just maybe, this place was his. Nevertheless, it would never be hers.

He climbed down the stairs and stopped. He sat on the steps. _He really was so weary._ He would talk to Hermione later, perhaps. She was probably done eating anyway. He walked back up the stairs, back to his room, and practically fell on his bed, face down. He closed his eyes and went right to sleep.

_Somewhere else, a bit later__:_

Iver paced the Great Hall. He explained his conversation with Cat to Milo, who was guarding the front doors. Milo seemed nonplussed, and told Iver not to worry about it. Then he told Iver to go guard the west tower. Their cousins, Angus, Thom and Enoch were guarding the other entrances. The rest of their clan, as well as some others, were guarding the grounds and the forest. Milo seemed uneasy, which made Iver uneasy.

"Why do you think something is going to happen tonight?" Iver asked again. He had already asked Milo that once, and all Milo did was grunt at him.

This time, Milo sighed. "I just feel it, and you know my feelings are almost always right. I tell you, something terrible, horrible, even cataclysmic, is going to happen tonight, something that will change all of our lives forever."

Milo went back to the large oaks doors, opened one a bit, and stared outside into the dark night.

"I know this is a bad time, but I really need to ask you for this favour," Iver said. He had already said this once to Milo, too. He asked him to release them both from the betrothal.

"Not now," Milo said firmly. "It would show weakness among the other clans."

"I'm not marrying Cat," Iver finally said.

Milo whipped around, looked at his brother and said, "Stop this nonsense now!"

"I'm not! I don't love her that way, and she deserves someone who will love, protect, and cherish her. She's a special, beautiful girl, but she's only a friend to me, a special friend, but not a lover, not a wife. She wants to get married, have children, start her life, and stop living in the limbo that we've created for her. It's not fair to her or to me to keep this betrothal in place!"

Milo saw the pain in his brother's eyes but said, "One male from each family has to marry a female from their own clan. You know that."

"Then I'll marry someone else someday, if I have to. I know I won't have the luxury of marrying my mate." Iver hung his head. Milo placed his hand on his brother's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry. I know how hard it is, not to claim your mate, especially since you know who yours is. I know you hate lying to everyone, telling them that you've never had your mate dream. I know it's hard to pretend that you don't know her. I'm so sorry, Iver. If I could take away your curse, so that you could have a normal life, and take it upon myself, I would, you know that, don't you?" Milo said sincerely.

"It's fine, don't worry about it," Iver said with a fake smile. He patted his brother's back, said, "I'll go talk to Cat and smooth things over with her. I'll fix this." He walked up the main staircase, went directly to Cat's door, and without knocking, he opened it and walked inside. She wasn't there.

He began to search for her everywhere. She wasn't anywhere that he looked. He looked in all her usual places…the alcove on the second floor, the library, the conservatory, the music room. She wasn't in any of her usual haunts. He started to become frantic, and he asked several servants to help in the search.

Finally, he went to Draco's door, and knocked. He needed Draco to help him find Cat. Draco woke up at the sound of a knock. He hoped it was Hermione. He practically ran to the door, and threw it open.

"Malfoy," Iver began, "Cat's missing. Please, I need your help. Milo seems to think that something bad might occur tonight, and he's usually right about these things. Now, she's missing, and she was so upset earlier. I broke our betrothal."

"Why?" Draco asked, shocked.

"I'm not in love with her," he explained, "But that doesn't matter. I'm going to tell her that I've changed my mind, but I need to find her first. Please, help me find her."

"Let me get Granger," Draco said. He walked to the next room, and knocked on the door. She didn't answer. He opened the door, but she wasn't there. Where was she? "Looks like we have two people to find," Draco said, exasperated. "Let's go look in the office."

The men ran to the office. Draco entered first. It was empty. He stepped into the room, walked up to the window, and then turned around to look at the table, and his Auror instincts instantly made him notice two things: One – the window was broken, and it wasn't that way earlier. It appeared to have been broken from the outside. Two – the necklace was missing, as was his jacket, which he had left on the chair earlier.

Why did he give her that blasted necklace? When he bought it, and told Potter about her theory that it was the connection to finding the last body, Potter agreed and told Draco that he wasn't to give it to her under any circumstances. Potter told him that it might be a conduit – a link from the killer to the girls. Now she probably had it on her bloody neck, and if she were killed, he would never forgive himself. If she wasn't killed, he would kill her himself, but of course, for her stupidity!

Iver walked over to the window to look at the crack. Neither man had spoken since entering the room. Draco was still searching the table for the necklace, when Iver said, "Draco, come here!"

Draco rushed to the window. Iver pointed outside. Then he saw it: a black figure, perhaps a man, perhaps some sort of animal, running toward the woods, dragging something white behind it.

His blood froze in his veins. Before he could say what he thought, Iver said, "My God, it's a body! It's a body! It's the killer! We have to catch him!"

Iver stormed from the room, with Draco behind him. They both ran down the stairs, straight to Milo, who at that moment, was standing with both doors opened, and his face white, drained of blood. His hands clenched to his sides, knuckles white, he said, "Angus and Thom ran after the thing that was dragging it." Milo pointed toward the white heap left in the courtyard before them. Iver rushed toward him, stood at his side, saw exactly the same thing his brother saw, and then he dropped to his knees and screamed.

Draco was afraid to see what the other men were seeing. However, he stepped between them, parting them, and walked out the door, down the stone steps, past the columns and he walked up to the body, wrapped in white cloth, on the ground in front of him.

He dropped to his knees. With his bare hands, and without a sound, he began to pull and tear at the white muslin swaddling the dead body.

The first thing he saw was the remnants of his jacket. It was torn, tattered, but it was definitely his jacket. He didn't want to continue, but he did. He unwrapped more of the cloth, and saw the necklace around the body's neck. His mouth opened to scream, but no sound came out. He knew he was screaming, but the sound was distant, silent, and he was frozen like a statue, pain etched on his face and the silent scream still on his lips.

Iver stood behind him now, crying openly. Milo lifted Draco away from the body, and with his wand, he reverently continued to cut away the gauze from the body. The clothing was torn and almost beyond recognition, but there was not any blood, whatsoever, on any of the clothing or on the body. There were deep cuts and long gashes on the chest and arms. Milo leaned down, tore the necklace from the body, and extended his hand toward Malfoy. Draco was still frozen. Iver took the necklace from his brother's outstretched hand and stuffed it in his pocket.

The only thing still covered was the face. Iver was chanting something incoherent in the background. Draco, still stationary in his silent agony, continued to kneel on the ground. Milo sunk to his knees, and with his hand, removed the last piece of cloth around the head and face.

The first thing he saw was blond hair. He said, "It's not her, Malfoy. It's not her."

However, Iver screamed one word, "CAT!" and then Milo knew that even though it wasn't Hermione, it was just as bad. It was Cat. He hung his head in anguish, stood up quickly, brought his brother into his arms, and held him as he cried.

Draco said, "It isn't her. It isn't Hermione."

Then, where was she?

* * *

_A/N: Check out my Author's page to see the link for the poster I made for this story._


	33. Chapter 33 A Cataclysmic Event & a Tomb

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 33: A Cataclysmic Event and a Tomb:**

On a table in the basement of Rhodeana castle, covered with a sheet, was the body of Cat MacNeill. Surrounding her body were her father, Mr. MacNeill, Draco Malfoy, Milo and Iver Dorchester. Placed in this room along with the other two bodies, the men stood silently around the table, her father staring directly at her face, and crying, Draco staring at the floor, worried for Hermione, Milo staring at the damaged done to the poor girl's body, and Iver - his eyes were closed, deep in a silent meditation.

They had already discovered that she was killed on top of the tower. They found evidence…blood, hair, and even a black feather. They also found a note this time, tucked inside the swaddling that covered Cat's lower body. There was nothing else for them to do. Draco sent an urgent Owl to Potter, because they needed more help, more Aurors, and oh yes, Hermione was missing.

Mr. MacNeill began to cry openly. He reached out and stroked his daughter's hair. Draco had always thought the man somewhat cold, aloof, unfeeling, but this was his only child, and he wept as a father who had just lost his only child would weep. He kept saying things such as, "My poor little girl," and "Look what they did to my little girl." Draco could barely hide his own sorrow. He placed his hand on the older man's back and patted it twice.

Draco took a few steps backwards and pulled on Milo's shirt, to gain his attention. Milo turned around and Draco said, "I need to go find Granger. I can't wait for the Aurors to arrive. What if whoever did this to Cat also killed her?"

Iver turned to the other men and said, "I'll help you find her. I feel responsible, somehow."

Milo told them, "The others will find her. I have them searching the grounds, the woods, the village and both castles. Angus is in Dorchester waiting for the Aurors. We should all remain here and wait."

However, MacNeill turned around, stopped crying, and he said, "No, Malfoy must find her. She's his bonded."

Milo turned directly in front of Draco and said, "Fine, close your eyes, Malfoy, and try to sense her. Feel her. Draw from the blood bond, and perhaps you'll find her."

Draco grabbed Milo's collar and pushed him up against the wall. Iver grabbed Draco's arm to detain him, but at that moment, Draco was too enraged, too strong, to stop. He shouted, "You did force a blood bond! Hermione thought that you had! WHY?"

"You should be thanking me, not trying to strangle me!" Milo said. He pushed Draco away, and straightened his shirt collar. "It will help you to find her!"

"Oh really? Well what in the hell am I supposed to be feeling?" Draco spat. What he wanted to do was to go run blindly into the night, find Harry Potter and the other Aurors, and flatten this whole place to the ground.

To Draco's surprise, Mr. MacNeill placed his hand on Draco's chest. His face, weathered with age, still streaked with tears of grief, was close to his and he said, "Close your eyes, son. Remember the way she smelled, the way she tasted, and the way she made you feel." He talked softly, his heavy brogue less pronounced. Draco closed his eyes, as if under a spell. "Seek her out, not with your eyes, but with your senses, your heart, and your heritage. You've exchanged blood now, and she's your mate. You should at least be able to feel what she's feeling. Now tell me, what do you feel?"

He felt insurmountable fear and anguish, and he didn't know if it was Hermione's or his own. It was unbearable – sorrow, trepidation, distress, anguish, and even physical pain. Draco sunk to his knees, MacNeill's hand moved to Draco's shoulder. Draco said, "I feel her fear. She's somewhere dark, she's alone, and afraid. She's been hurt. She's been hurt, badly. It feels like a tomb. I sense death all around her. I don't know where she is, but it's dark and she's terrified. She's here in this castle, I'm sure she's close to us."

Milo looked at his brother and said, "The underground tunnels! But I sealed those years ago; still I wonder…" he turned to MacNeill and said, "You stay here. When the others come back, have them help us search the tunnels. Iver, you begin to search the ones that lead to the springs. I'll take Draco with me. We'll search the ones that lead to the old castle."

Draco stood up and said, "You mean she might be in the old castle? These tunnels lead to the old castle?" Draco was afraid that she might be in the chamber at Dorchester castle.

Milo nodded and said, "They lead almost everywhere. It could take us days to search them all, and she could be anywhere. I closed the entrance to them years ago, but somehow, I think the place you described is the tunnels. I feel it so strongly. I sense her there, too."

_Earlier__:_

The necklace wasn't on the worktable where Hermione had left it. She wondered if Draco had taken it. Didn't he trust her? Well, she did come back for it, so he had every right not to trust her, but still. She looked over at the circular windows of the turret and saw that one had a long crack, top to bottom. She was certain it wasn't that way before. It wasn't broken the other day when they had their raindrop race. Earlier, she had heard a strange boom, a loud sound, and she wondered if that was the cause of the window's crack. She touched the heavy paned glass lightly with her hand. She turned to leave the room, when she noticed that Draco's jacket was gone.

Maybe he only hid the necklace. Maybe he hid it outside, or up on the top of the tower. That's why his jacket was gone. It's cold outside. This would give her a great chance to try her spell. She would search for the necklace with her spell! Then she would take the necklace to Draco, hold it up, gloat a bit, and then comfort him if he was still in a bad mood.

She lit a lantern that was on the table, held it in her left hand, and pointed her wand in front of her. She said the incantation, and her wand began to shake. It pulled her, almost literally, out the door. She began to run down the corridor, her wand guiding her steps, her blindly following. She ran down hallways, stairs, corridors, through rooms, hidden doorways, down more stairs, until she was deep in the dungeons of the castle.

She had a bad feeling about this. What if the spell was leading her to the last body, and not to the necklace that Draco had bought earlier? Did she really want to find a body by herself? The lantern in her other hand did not afford much light, but she decided to forge on, since she didn't think she could find her way back upstairs even if she tried. The sooner she found the body, the sooner she could worry about someone finding her.

If Malfoy had to search for her down here, she would never here the end of it. She stumbled down the corridor, which became narrower as she continued on her way. It continued to decline as well, so she knew she was deep underground. Devoid of bright light, her other senses kicked into overtime…and they were wrecking havoc with her emotions. She heard rats squealing, which terrified her (ever since the incident with Wormtail, she had hated rats). She heard water dripping from the ceilings, and even felt it on her skin. She was cold and frightened.

Her wand continued to guide her, continued to steer her deeper into the underbelly of the beast. Blackness and more blackness painted the passageway before her. She felt disoriented. She started to run…why, she didn't know. Her imagination was active and feeding her fears. Her foot caught on something on the ground, and as she fell, she was careful not to hit her hand again, so she turned quickly so that she fell on left shoulder and hip. Her face hit the wall with a hard thump.

The pain was blinding, searing. Her cheek hurt, she had fire like pain in her hip and leg. The pain in her shoulder was unbelievable. The lantern flew from her hand when she fell, and the light went out. She dropped her wand, also. She lay on her side, huddled in a ball, unable to move, unable to breathe for a moment as the wind was knocked out of her. Every nerve ending, muscle, and bone in her body ached from the fall. She couldn't even cry. She made a pitiful, moaning noise, and felt around for her wand.

She found her wand, lit it, and pointed it toward the floor, so she could see why she tripped. Oh. No. She scooted her body across the floor, against the wall, tucked her head into her chest, bent her knees, and began to panic. She closed her eyes tightly. It was another body, wrapped in white swaddling cloth, on the floor right beside her. She tried to calm herself. She told herself that everything was fine. Someone would find her soon. It would all be over. She did it…she found the last body.

With great difficulty, and pain, she lifted her wand, and removed the wrapping from the face of the body. When she saw the face, she couldn't help herself, she screamed, and screamed, and screamed.

Draco and Milo decided to split up, and they would send out their patronus when they found her. Not if they found her, WHEN. Draco stopped running, placed his hand on his head, and a feeling that was more than fear, a feeling that bordered on dread, sent a chill down his spine. Then he heard a scream. He knew it was she! He started to run, not aware why he was running, only aware that she was near, and that something was terribly wrong.

He took only a few more steps and then he saw her and something else, possibly another body, beside her on the ground of the narrow passageway. She was on her side, shaking and shuddering, on the ground, in a fetal position. He sent out his patronus, and then approached her slowly. He glanced over at the body once, and then back to her. The sight of her, afraid and alone, sucked all the breath right out of his body.

His blood ran cold when he touched her. Her skin was like ice. "Hermione?" he said. She didn't answer. She didn't even seem to be aware that he was there. He couldn't tell if she was injured, or merely frightened, but she wouldn't look at him, and she didn't appear to hear him, as he said her name a second time. "Hermione?"

She appeared to shatter into pieces when he pulled her away from the body. He reached for her arm with his hand, and when he grasped her wrist, she moaned, wailed, and even began to hit at him, claw at him, scream and shout. He backed up, with her in his arms, so he could put some distance between them and the body. He scooted them as far away as he could. He held his arms tightly around her. He said, "I'm here, Hermione. I'm here. It's okay."

Her fingers wrapped around his arms like a vise. He tried to pry them off him, so he could see if she was hurt. He moved his wand light across her face. Her cheek was bruised already, purple and blue. She whimpered when he touched her left shoulder. He stood up, picked her up into his arms, and walked further away from the body on the ground.

He sat back down on the cold, wet, stone floor, his back against the wet rock, her in his lap, his wand on the floor, still lit, and he rocked her in his arms. She held her lit wand tightly in her left hand. He said, "I'm so proud of you, Hermione. You did it. You found the last body. You did it." He didn't know what else to say. He wasn't even sure if she had yet to realize that he was holding her, as she still seemed so despondent.

She began to relax in his arms, her trembling lessened, and he whispered soothing words in her ear, telling her that he loved her, he was proud of her, and that she was going to be okay. "Milo will come soon and lead us out of here."

"There's another body. I tripped over a body," she finally said.

He wanted to tell her that was an obvious fact that she didn't need to tell him, but instead he said, "Yes, I know."

"It's not the last girl, Malfoy," she said. She looked up into his eyes.

"Yes, it is. Remember? We only have one last body to find," he said. He wasn't going to tell her about Cat. Not yet.

"I removed the cloth from the face, right before I screamed," she said quietly, almost in a whisper. "It's not the last girl. It's a woman, older than the rest, and she had blond hair, Malfoy. The same colour hair as Cat. At first, I even thought it was Cat. Oh my God." She closed her mouth into a tight line, moaned, and buried her face in his chest.

He put a finger under her chin, forced her to look up at him, and whispered, "You're safe, Hermione. Whoever it is, you did a great job. You found her. I was so afraid I lost you this evening. We couldn't find you anywhere." She looked up at him, with her big brown eyes, and his heart splintered in two at the pain he found within their depths.

"I should have listened to you. I should have waited. What if you hadn't come to look for me?" she said. "Why did you come? Did you go to my room first, and see that I wasn't in bed? I was afraid that no one would discover that I was missing until morning."

"Well," he began, and then hesitated. He felt like someone had beaten him to a bloody pulp. He felt defeated. He was still feeling the weariness that he had felt earlier, combined with the grief of Cat's death and with the fear that he was feeling from Hermione, he wasn't even sure he could speak. He didn't want to cause her any more pain. He didn't want to feel that pain. He felt haunted, and utterly lost and defenseless, and he hated feeling like that. Finally, he said quickly, "We found a body, too, or really, the killer hand delivered a body to our doorsteps tonight."

She gasped. "Was it the last girl? Please, say that it was, so that this can all end."

Her hand grasped his tightly. He brought her hand to his lips, kissed the top, and then placed a kiss at her temple, near her hair. He was gentle and his movements slow and deliberate. He held her to his chest, and without looking in her face he said, "It was Cat. She apparently went to the office and took the necklace, and somehow, we think maybe up on the tower, she was attacked and killed. She had my jacket on, and the necklace was around her neck."

Draco continued, "The killer even left a message this time. It was wrapped up with the body. It was written in Gaelic."

She sucked in air, looked up at him and asked, "What did it say?"

His hand left her face, as he held her in his arm, on his lap, on the cold hard ground of the narrow passageway, so that he could take the note out of his pocket. He moved her slightly to the side to do so. She winced in pain. He apologized, righted himself, pulled her back in his lap and handed it to her.

The note said: '_Slàn leat Hermione Granger'_. She asked, "What do the first two words mean, Malfoy?"

"Goodbye. It says, Goodbye, Hermione Granger."

She couldn't speak. She couldn't move. She couldn't process what he was saying to her. He continued, "We went up to the tower, and we discovered blood and other evidence. Milo thinks that the killer may have been acting on the sense of smell, smelling you and me on my jacket, and as you suspected, the killer was using the jewelry as a honing device."

She looked up at him. "You mean that the killer thought she was me. The killer wanted to kill me." It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

"That's my assumption," Draco said. He hated being brutally honest to her at a time like this, but he didn't know what else to say to her.

"Cat died because of me," she said. Then she finally began to cry.


	34. Chapter 34 A Friend and a Foe

all characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 34: A Friend and a Foe:**

Milo, Iver and one of their cousins found Draco and Hermione almost an hour later. Draco had no idea what time it was, but it had to be close to dawn. As soon as they entered the tunnel, Milo reached down for Hermione, and Draco let the man take her from his arms, much as he did the first night they arrived. He followed them out of the passageway, levitating the body of the dead woman along after them.

When they arrived at the basement, Draco placed the body of the dead woman with all the others. There, he found some of his fellow Aurors. He nodded to them, and then ran to catch up with Milo and the others, who were climbing the stairs to the Great Hall.

He walked through the archway, entered the hall, just as Harry Potter was taking Hermione Granger from Milo Dorchester's arms. Harry looked at Draco, with a look of condemnation, and shame. Draco felt he deserved every look of disdain Potter threw at him, and then some.

"Someone show me to her room," Harry said.

"I can walk, put me down now," she said. The shock that she was in was wearing off, and she was now aware of where she was. Harry placed her feet to the floor, but she turned in his arms and hugged him tight.

He held her, looked toward the others and asked again, "Where's her room?"

Iver motioned toward the stairs with his head. "I'll show you." He quickly climbed the stairs, Harry with Hermione following closely behind him.

Milo looked at Draco and asked, "Now that the Aurors are here, what will happen? What will they do to all of us?"

Draco sat on the stairs, and said, "Hell if I know, Dorchester."

"Will they arrest my brother for the attack against Hermione? Is he still the main suspect?" Milo asked, pacing in front of Draco. Draco had never seen the other man so worried.

"No, he's not a suspect any longer. No one is arresting anyone tonight, or I guess its daytime now, so today." Draco rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands. "If it was that easy to arrest the guilty party, don't you think I would have already done it?"

"We can't let the other clans know about Cat or the other body yet," Milo said, mostly to himself. "I'm holding everyone together by a thread as it is. The elders will want to close off all contact with outsiders because of this, and all my work to bring our people to the modern age will be in vain."

Draco stood up and spat, "Is that all you care about? The body count is rising, Milo! Cat, your own brother's fiancée, a girl too young to die, only 22 years old, a girl you grew up with, was killed, and all you care about is what the other clans will think and do! Is that because if they close the village to outsiders, you know you'll never find your mate?"

"Of course not!" Milo shouted. "Don't push me, Malfoy! I'm on the edge!"

"This is entirely your fault!" Draco shouted back, only because he didn't know what else to say.

"How is any of this my fault?" Milo asked, shocked.

"All of these girls were killed because someone thought they were potential mates for you! Either a jealous woman, or a man who has it in for you probably killed them!"

Milo's mouth opened to respond, but no sound came out. "I know," he finally said. "You think I don't know that?"

"You had met all of the women in question, hadn't you?" Draco asked, though it was more of an accusation. "You knew them better than you've let on."

Milo nodded.

"What sort of magic do you use on them to see if they're your mate?" inquired Draco.

"A spell of my own making. It's a form of Legilimency. I delve into their minds, but I also have the uncanny sense of smell, and I try to…well, smell their blood. I know that sounds strange." He sat on the stairs, where Draco had just sat, and continued. "I try to see what's in their hearts, their minds, and I also try to picture my future with them. Usually, they don't remember anything. To them, it happens fast. I touch them; say hello, smile, and sometimes they smile back." He bowed his head. "Usually, they aren't aware of time passing, though it takes at least fifteen to twenty minutes for my spell to work. It didn't work on Hermione, though." He smiled.

"It didn't?" Draco asked.

Milo still smiled and said, "It made her ill."

Draco sat next to him. "Why was that, do you suppose?"

"Maybe because she's yours, or maybe my spell was never meant to work, and maybe by not working on her, it means she's mine." Milo looked directly at Draco to gauge his reaction to that statement. Draco huffed, stood up and went up the stairs. He had no response to that statement.

Iver, who was standing on the top of the stairs said, "After everything we've been through, do you think it's wise to provoke him right now?" He walked down several steps.

Milo stood up and walked up the stairs. When he was level with his brother he ordered, "Come upstairs with me and get a few hours of sleep."

"Milo," Iver interjected, "I'm serious. I'll give you the same advice Cat gave me. Leave her alone. She's his."

"Maybe she isn't. Maybe she's mine. Maybe I'll make that happen. We'll see." He patted his brother's arm and walked up the rest of the stairs, down the hall, and out of sight.

Iver sat on the stairs, and leaned his head against the wall. He closed his eyes, and said to himself, but aloud, "And maybe I'll make sure that never happens, brother, the same way you made sure I would never have my mate."

After being attended by a Healer, Hermione slept for several hours, and woke up around noon. After she had bathed, Harry walked into her room without knocking. She was slowly getting dressed. As she slipped a cardigan sweater over her blouse, she winced, her shoulder still causing her discomfort. He rushed to her to help.

He turned her to face him, smiled, a sad smile, and touched the outline of her bruised cheek. She said, "Did they tell you about the note found on Iver's fiancée's body?"

"Yes, I've taken it for evidence," he responded. He pulled the covers up on her bed, sat down, and then took her hand. He pulled her to sit next to him.

"I was supposed to be the next victim, not her," she said.

"That could be, I don't know." Harry didn't want her to worry. He didn't want to think about it either. "I think you should go back to London today. I'm having the rest of the evidence, and the four new bodies taken there. You can work from the University." He stood up, resolute in his decision, and started toward the door.

"I have to finish what I started, Harry," she replied.

He turned to face her. "And so you will, in London. We shouldn't have let you come here. You could have died. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if that happens. Pack your things, because you leave this afternoon."

She stood from the bed and said, "No I don't! I hate to tell you this, but you're not my boss. I work for the University."

"Maybe you do, but I still have the authority to relieve you from the case. I'm 'Auror in Charge', and that's my decision to make, not yours. You either go back and work on the case from London, or stay here and do nothing more on the case. Well, I guess a third option would be go back and do nothing on the case," he finished.

Hermione glared at him in anger and said, "You need me, Harry Potter."

"I do," he agreed, "In more ways than one." He knew that she meant for the case, but he meant that he needed her to stay safe because she was important to him.

Her face softened, she smiled and took his hand. "Listen, it's sweet of you to want to protect me, and I know it's hard to argue that I can take care of myself when I'm all battered and bruised, and with all the other terrible things that have happened since I've arrived, but Harry, I'm an adult. I can take care of myself. I started this job, and I want…no, I need to finish it. For all of these women, I need to see it through."

"Damn you, Hermione Granger," Harry said, though he smiled. "Let's go have some lunch, and maybe you can persuade me to let you stay." He linked her hand through his arm and escorted her down to the dining room. She knew that meant that she was going to stay.

Draco was in the office, poring through all the evidence. He had carefully arranged little piles throughout, mostly on the table. He had pictures of all the girls, and on top of each picture, he had the piece of jewelry that was found on each body, as well as any other evidence that was connected with each victim.

For one girl, it was a journal. For another, it was a mirrored compact. One girl still had a shoe on her body. He placed each item on each picture, when he noticed something. He knelt down to examine something he had placed on a chair. It was the picture of Jennifer Cravens, Violet Edgewater's niece. Potter obtained the picture from the village, and it was a Muggle picture, unlike the others, which were all magical. It was a picture of a pretty girl with long dark hair, smiling at the camera, and she had a necklace on in the picture, a necklace with the emblem.

However, when they found her body, it was earrings that she was wearing, not a necklace. He picked up the two small earrings and looked at them closely. Of course, since she was from Dorchester, where the jewelry came from, and Violet's niece, it wouldn't be farfetched to think that she might have earrings as well as a necklace, but still, something wasn't right.

Milo identified this body as Jennifer Craven, and they took his identity of the girl as the truth. He said he had struck up a friendship with her. He said that she wasn't even a witch. Perhaps, he lied.

He stood up to cross the room, to go find Hermione, when she came rushing into the room.

They stood there, staring at each other. He frowned when he saw the large, purple bruise on her face, and the fact that although she rushed into the room, she still limped. He hadn't seen her since the tunnels.

"Good afternoon, Granger," he said, rather formally. Then he swallowed. "Are you all packed to go? Potter told me he was sending you back to London."

She licked her dry lips, shrugged and said, "Harry was persuaded to make me stay."

He grinned, one side of his mouth higher than the other and said, "Really? Well, you usually do get your way, don't you? Your new name is Princess Persuasion. I shouldn't have doubted it."

"So you want me to stay?" she asked.

"It's alright with me if you want to," he joked. "I don't care one way or the other. Did you have something to tell me? You rushed in here like a bat out of hell."

"You were running toward the door, too. Were you coming to find me, perchance?" she asked back.

"Yes, I think I've discovered something important," he admitted. "What about you?"

She took a step closer to him. "I too, have discovered something of importance."

"You go first," he said. He reached out with one hand and cupped her cheek. He let it drop back to his side.

"I insist, you go first," she urged. She reached toward him, pulled on the sleeve of his shirt, and then let her hand drop.

"I think it should be age before beauty," he said with a sly smile. He grabbed her hand, gave it a squeeze, and then released it.

"I think Gentlemen should go first," she argued. She touched his cheek with her hand; her thumb brushed across his bottom lip, and then went back to her side.

"It's usually ladies first," he disagreed. He leaned forward, and kissed her right cheek.

"In this case, I must insist that you go first," she insisted. She placed both hands on his shoulders, lifted up on tiptoes, and kissed his right cheek. She fell back on her feet, and his arms went around her waist.

He shook his head and laughed. "Granger, Granger, Granger. Fine, I'll give in to you, once again, but only because I love you so, and also, I know you'll persuade me to do so in the end." He let her go, but then leaned toward her without touching; his lips grazed hers with a gentle kiss. He took each of her hands in his, and then said, "I don't think the body we found in the woods the first day is Jennifer Cravens."

"I know it isn't." She smiled a somewhat cocky smile.

"Well, tell me how you know she isn't," he insisted.

"No, you tell me," she said.

"Oh my stars!" he expounded. He released her hands and threw his up in the air. "Must it always be like this? Everything a struggle, a constant tug-of-war?"

She laughed and said, "Fine, I'll go first this time."

She sat down on one of the chairs near the worktable and moved one of his little piles from the table in front of her to an empty chair beside her. "The DNA, the Muggle DNA, doesn't match. If Jennifer and Violet were related, as Harry found out that they were, then their DNA should match, and they don't. That would mean one of those bodies has not been identified correctly. Since we both knew what Violet looked like, we know that the dead woman found in our room was Violet. However, neither of us ever saw Jennifer Cravens. We took Milo's word that the body from the woods was hers. Later, Harry provided us with her picture, but we never went back to make sure it matched, besides, all the girls were so similar, and we never really compared the picture to the body. I don't think that body was Jennifer Cravens. I think it's the last girl. What's her name?"

Draco walked over to the table, went through some notes, then held up a file, which had a picture attached to the front, and he said, "The last girl missing from Dorchester was named Marcella O'Brien." Hermione took the folder from him, and removed the picture from the front.

"Give me the picture of Jennifer," she said.

He leaned down and picked it up from the chair. He pointed toward the jewelry in the picture. "The jewelry doesn't match either. That body had earring on, and in this picture, Jennifer has a necklace on, so that's why I thought the body wasn't hers." He handed her the picture after he explained his theory and she smiled.

"I looked at this picture many times, and I didn't even notice that," she almost apologized. She compared the two pictures, and while there were many similarities: same colour hair and eyes, both girls very pretty, even Hermione wouldn't have confused them for one another. "If Milo knew Jennifer, he wouldn't have confused another girl for her. He lied to us." Hermione looked up at him. "Is he our main suspect again, do you think?"

Someone from the doorway said, "He did lie, but I'm not sure that means he's our main suspect." Harry walked into the room.

Hermione turned in her chair and gasped. "You scared me Harry."

Draco leaned forward and said in a mock whisper, "His face always scares me a bit, too. I think it's the giant lightning bolt on his forehead that gives me the willies."

Hermione slapped Draco's arm and turned in her chair to face Harry. "I'm ignoring you, Malfoy," Harry said. He sat on the side of the table, by Hermione's arm and said, "Mr. MacNeill just identified the body you found in the tunnels as his wife. She went missing twenty-one years ago."

"Twenty-one years?" Hermione said. "That means Cat was only one when she went missing. I thought she was older than that, I don't know why I thought that, but I did."

"No, twenty-one years ago, she went missing, and they never found her," Harry explained. "She was murdered the same way as the others, exactly. I would say she was our very first victim. I also have something for you, Hermione." Harry reached in his pocket and pulled out two small envelopes.

"What are they?"

"Hair samples from Iver and Milo. You said you wanted their DNA," he said.

"How did you obtain it, Potter?" Draco asked. "I'd been formulating a plan to get it all day, but hadn't yet figured out a way to do it."

Harry smiled and said, "I told them both I needed a hair sample for Hermione, and they gladly obliged."

Draco snorted and said sarcastically, "Well, hell, if you want to do things the easy way, okay."

Hermione smiled and leapt from the chair and gave Harry a hug. "Thank you. I somehow think this will be important. I wish we had something with Jennifer Cravens' DNA on it, as well as something with Marcella's. Harry, you'll have to get those for me. We also still need to find that last body. We have seven bodies now, the three original bodies, the one from the woods, the one the third clan found, and Cat and her mother. One more." It was as if she was talking to herself. She began to roam around the room, biting her bottom lip, looking at the floor. Harry and Draco exchanged amused looks.

She held up her hand, pointed her finger, and said, "The jewelry is still the key, so we might be able to find her by the jewelry. I also think that Milo is at the center of this, because I think most of the women, Cat, her mother and Violet excluded, were killed because they were potential mates for him."

She faced the window, but continued to talk. "The first murder, which had to be Cat's mother, may have been done by someone else and the rest were copycats. Violet was killed because she was helping us, that much is apparent. Cat was killed because someone wanted to kill me. In addition, we need to find out if Cat's mother was related to the woman who was Milo's father's mate. We need to find out if she's still alive. She might be the killer, exacting revenge against Milo since she can't exact revenge on his father and maybe against her own sister for marrying into this clan, by marrying MacNeill."

Draco looked from Hermione to Harry again, and Harry once again did the same. Hermione looked at them at that exact moment. She snapped her fingers and said, "Pay attention, gentlemen! I'm speaking!" She began to roam the room again, still deep in thought. She crossed her arms and said, "Of course, we don't know that MacNeill's wife and Milo's father's mate were related, but I bet my last galleon that they were." She spun around and faced them and said, "What if Milo's parents were murdered by the same person killing all of these girls! That makes sense, doesn't it?"

Harry smiled at Draco and said, "I don't think she even knows we're here anymore. When she starts thinking aloud like this, she's in her own little world."

She walked to the end of the table, pushed Draco aside, and picked up the journal that had belonged to Sandra Parrish. "Milo knew these girls better than he's letting on. We already know that he lied about Jennifer, so how do we know he hasn't lied about knowing the others." She placed the journal back on the table, and turned back toward the window.

"I agree, Potter, she's fascinating to watch sometimes, isn't she?" Draco granted, as he walked around toward Harry. He leaned closer to him and said, "Rather like being at the Zoo, and watching the animals in their natural habitat."

Hermione turned quickly, faced both men and said, "Is Jennifer Craven possibly really alive? Perhaps we're looking for a dead woman, when we should be looking for an alive one! Come on, Gentlemen, why are you just standing there, doing nothing? We have so much work to do it makes me dizzy! Let's go!" She pushed Harry toward the door and grabbed Draco's hand.

After they left the office, she sealed the door with magic. She turned toward the hall, and Harry and Draco were both looking at her with smiles on her face. "I love you, Hermione," Harry said with a laugh.

Draco turned to Harry and said, "You stupid prat, stole my line."

Harry looked aghast and said, "You love her? When did that happen? Gads, now I'll have to be sociable to you, I suppose. Heaven help me."

"You think it's going to be hard on you, Potter? I'm the one that feels physically ill every time Hermione even touches you."

The two men started down the hall, and Hermione smiled at them as they walked in front of her. She loved both of them, too.

* * *

_A/N: I think I will be able to wrap this up in four more chapters now. I've gone over my outline, and I have big red X's through almost the entire thing, so there's not much left to reveal and write, so no need to drag this out unnecessarily, so I really think four more, instead of six, will do us nicely. Thanks!_


	35. Chapter 35 A Question and an Answer

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 35: A Question and an Answer:**

Hermione sat in her office in Dorchester castle, with vials, slides, and pieces of parchments all around her. The Aurors had removed all the bodies, and most of the evidence, and they were working elsewhere, so she was quite alone in the large room. She felt restless; because she felt that last piece of evidence…that last secret…was right within her grasp. She walked up to the still cracked window and looked outside. She noticed that it was once again dark out. She wondered what time it was. She wondered what day it was. Since she had been here, each day seemed to bleed into the next. Had they been here a week, ten days, two weeks? She hardly knew, and she hardly cared.

She went back to the old wooden table and looked down at the report she had been writing when she looked up as Draco walked in the room with a tray of food. "You missed dinner, again."

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Time for all good princesses to go to bed," he said with a laugh. "Potter and I are going to crash the clans' big meeting tonight, and I for one would like to make sure you are well fed, and in bed, before I leave." He placed the food in front of her, brushed her hair away from her forehead with his hand, and kissed the top of her head. He sat on the table and said, "Did you discover anything earth-shattering today?"

She nodded. "I think I might have."

"We did, too," he said, "and to save us time, since you'll insist that I go first anyway, and I'll end up giving in to you in the end, I'll just go first, okay?"

She took a piece of bread from the tray, buttered it, and then motioned that he should go on.

"We went to the village, and Harry asked to talk to the elder of the third clan, believe it or not, even these people have all heard of Harry Potter, and supposedly they were in awe of him, which makes me utterly sick, but anyway, they bent over backwards to answer his bloody questions." Draco popped a grape in his mouth. He took another one and aimed it toward hers. She wasn't prepared and it hit her on the eye.

"Ouch, Malfoy!" She rubbed her eye.

"Sorry, princess," he said. He leaned forward, cupped the back of her head, and kissed her eye. "Next time, catch it with your mouth."

"Next time, tell me you're throwing it, or better yet, don't throw it at all! Now, what did the elder of the third clan tell Harry?"

"The woman who was supposed to marry Milo's father, the one he was bonded to, and was his mate, was one and the same woman who married MacNeill."

She stood up and pushed him. He almost fell off the table. "No! They had different names!"

He righted himself and said, "No, same name, different divertive. Iver didn't deliberately lie to you, when he told you her name; he probably didn't even remember the woman. When Dorchester senior didn't marry her, MacNeill stepped in and did the honours, under Milo's father's direction. I guess Milo gets his bossy ways naturally." Draco took another grape, threw it in the air, and positioned his mouth under it to catch it.

"Why didn't MacNeill or Milo tell us that? It would have been an important piece of information, you would think," she said.

"You would think," he agreed. He reached for a third grape, but she swatted his hand.

"This is my food, isn't it?" she pouted.

"Do you even like grapes?" he asked.

She actually didn't. "That's not the point, and how would you know? Anyway, did you confront MacNeill with this information yet?"

"Harry did, and he said it wasn't a secret and if we had asked, he would have told us. I then told Milo and Iver about it, and they, however, both acted extremely shocked, I mean, this was the woman who supposedly cursed them both at birth, right?"

"They didn't remember the woman well; after all, they were only 6 and 3 when she went missing, though of course, they didn't live here at this castle at the time. Milo seemed very upset, and he even yelled at poor Mr. MacNeill, who is still grieving the loss of his daughter, and now his missing wife shows up dead twenty some years later."

"And did MacNeill say that she was the same woman who placed the curses on Milo and Iver?" Hermione asked.

Draco nodded. "MacNeill said that she did, and once the curses were in place, they couldn't be lifted. He said no one knew of the curses until her disappearance, when they discovered it written in her journal. He said that was when he told Milo's parents about it. Of course, they already knew about Iver's little blood fetish, but they didn't know the reason until the woman died."

"When are the funerals?" she asked.

"Milo is having some big clan meeting tonight, the one I told you that Potter and I are planning to crash, under his special little invisibility cloak by the way, although with the extra senses these people have, we'll probably be discovered. Milo can't hide it any longer. He has to tell them what happened, and when the third clan finds out, well, he seems to think it will be all out war, since this woman was part of that clan, and indirectly, so was Cat," he explained. He handed her an apple and said, "Now, what did you find out."

"Milo and Iver share DNA with Violet." She took a large bite of her apple.

Draco stared at her in shock. She was sitting, but he grabbed her shoulders, and shook her and said, "Are you joking?" She almost choked on her apple.

"Watch out, I bruise easily, as you can see," she said, her hand resting on one of his. He removed his hands. "I don't even know if they know. I don't think they were closely related, but definitely, they are of the same lineage, and I don't mean distant relatives, but same general family. I think Violet and their mother must have been related." She stood up, reached for a folder, and handed it to him.

"Those are my findings. Draco, there's something else, and I don't know how to tell you this. It has to do with you."

He stared at her for a long time, and noticed that she seemed truly worried. He pulled on her wrist, and hugged her. "What, are you pregnant?" He laughed.

She pushed on him again and said, "You're a moron! I'm not pregnant! We only made love two days ago! At least, I think it was just two days ago. All of my days are bleeding together. No, I did find out something about you, though."

"I'm pregnant?" he asked with a perfectly straight face.

She didn't know whether to slap him or laugh. She did neither. He smiled and said, "Just say it, Granger."

"I took a hair sample from you, too."

"You did? I thought my hair felt slightly out of place. Why? Did you want to see if I was a natural blond?" he joked, though he was slightly perturbed at her. He stood up and walked around to the other side of the table.

"No," she said, and then she sighed. "Draco, your DNA also matches Milo and Iver and Violet's. There are similar qualities, which makes sense, because legend says that you come from the day people, or the lost clan from the eighth sister, the pure Veela and Wizard line, and their mother also came from that line."

Draco had to take a moment to digest the information, and then he said, "So what? My DNA matches theirs, or shares characteristics of theirs. That would make sense, right?"

She nodded, but he felt there was still more she wanted to say. "Is there more, Granger?"

She shook her head slightly. Milo interrupted them when he knocked on the door. Draco turned to look at him first. "I just got back to the castle and Iver said that you needed me up here, to question me, Malfoy. We have to hurry, because I have a clan meeting later tonight, and I need to prepare."

"I didn't ask to question you," Draco said. Harry and Draco had decided not to question Milo yet. They knew he lied about Jennifer Cravens' body, but until they had definitive proof that the body was that of Marcella O'Brien's, they weren't going to say a word. Draco turned to Hermione and asked, "Did you need to talk to him."

"Yes, I need to talk to him, and I need to do so alone," she said. Draco frowned.

He took her arm, and ushered her to the corner. "Don't mention that we think he lied about the body in the woods, until Potter gets the DNA sample of Marcella's. Then, when we know for sure that the body wasn't Jennifer, Potter and I will question him, not you."

"That's not what I want to question him about, okay? This is something else completely, and I need to talk to him alone." She placed a hand on his chest and she said, "Please, Draco. Go back downstairs. I'll come down when I'm finished."

"I don't have time for this," Milo complained from the doorway. "Are we to talk, or not?"

Draco stormed from the room, shouldered Milo as he left, and he stomped all the way down the stairs. Hermione said, "Please, close the door. I have some questions for you."

Milo closed the door, and while facing the doorway, he smiled. He had been waiting to be alone with her again. He turned toward her and said, "I want to apologize first, before we talk. I'm responsible for your safety, and you were once again injured." He took slow, deliberate steps toward her, placed a hand upon her bruised cheek, and rubbed his thumb gently back and forth several times. His hand dropped just as slowly.

Her mouth was suddenly dry, so her words came out hoarsely as she said, "I'm not your responsibility." She turned away from him and walked over toward the windows. When she turned back, he had followed, and was still just as close, and she felt as if she might sway on her feet.

"Are you alright?" he asked. He stared intently into her eyes, almost 'too' intently.

He was highly aware that she was NOT all right. He was using his influence on her again, and he was certain that she was not aware, but then she asked, "You're doing it right now, aren't you?" Her hand pushed against his chest. "You're trying your little spell on me, to influence me."

"I don't know what you mean," he said, innocently, though he was surprised that she was aware of what he was doing. He placed a hand on her arm, to steady her.

She brought her hand up to her neck, and began to breathe harder, while her other hand found purchase on his forearm. "Listen, Milo, that's what I wanted to ask you. I need to know what spell you used on these girls to determine if they were your mates, and if you used them on everyone of the dead girls."

His face suddenly clouded over and he backed away one-step, then two. "Why do you need to know that?" He stopped using his influence over her, as his anger began to grow.

"So I can trace the magical DNA to see if there are any other bodies, so I can see if there is a connection, so I can see if our theory is correct that these girls were killed because someone viewed them as potential mates for you."

"I assure you," he began, "none of them were my potential mates. If they were, I would have claimed one of them by now. Besides, two of them I barely knew. The girls from the University I had only met and spoken to a couple of times."

"But you do now admit you knew them all, right?" she asked. She backed against the window. The window seat was against her legs.

"I had met them all, had I not been forthcoming with that information already? I thought I had." He took another step forward again. "The three from the village were all witches, that village actually has more witches than they let on, but that's their business, not mine. That wasn't a secret, was it?" He face was set like a rock, and his voice was tense and menacing. He closed the gap between them, and again, he stared deeply in her eyes, his hand reached out for her once more, and touched her arm.

"Please, stop there."

"Why?" he asked again.

"Milo, did the spell work on all of them?" she asked.

He took another step forward. "Yes, it did."

"How does it work, and what type of spell is it. I need to know the incantation, or if it's a silent spell, I need to know its origins, so I can recreate it. It's important to the case. You need to tell me how it works, and how it made the girls feel, and how you determined whether it was accurate or not."

He smiled and said, "I could show you, instead."

"No thank you," she said. He was so close now. She could feel the heat of his body, could smell the scent of his skin, she placed a hand on his chest again. He placed a hand over that hand. She said, "I don't want to feel that way again. It made me feel dizzy, and nauseated, and like I had no control of my own body and mind."

"But Hermione," he said, steadily, "that's not the normal reaction to the spell." He came so close that they were literally standing in front of each other. She had to crane her head up to look at him. Their bodies were touching.

She found breathing difficult. She placed her other hand on his chest, too, and her thoughts became jumbled. She couldn't think, or act on her own. His free hand went to her back. He stared deeply in her eyes and said, "I shall show you the spell now, Hermione. Pay attention, won't you?" Each word said was slow, like a caress, his lips close to her lips, his breath on her skin. In an ancient language, with words that rolled slowly off his tongue, and rang through her head, he said, "An rud is annamg is iontach. Ceileann searc ainimh's locht. Tada gan iarracht. Gra, Dilseacht, Cairdeas."

She fell into him, both his arms wrapped around her. She looked up at him, and breathlessly she asked, "What did that mean?"

"That's the spell. It means nothing, it means everything," he replied. He suddenly felt conflicted. She should not even be aware that he had spoken the words. Normally, after he said the spell, he then could perform Legilimency and delve into their minds, search their hearts, and see if they were kindred spirits. Usually, they would be in a state of walking-unconsciousness, but they were always able to walk and talk, and respond to his commands. He would 'taste' their blood as the last test, and all of this would happen without their knowledge. Her reaction was completely out of the ordinary, and it intrigued him.

When he had first met Hermione in the village, he had not gotten as far as saying the actual incantation, because Malfoy came upon them, but he suspected at that time that it would not have worked. Why didn't it work? What did that mean? It couldn't mean that she's his mate, could it? He stroked her hair, as he held her up against his chest with his free arm. He asked, "What do you feel right now, Hermione? I must know."

"Please, I feel…I feel…please. I feel weak and ill. Let me go. I need to sit down." Her head lolled toward his chest. She would have dropped to the floor if his arms were not holding her upright. He picked her up and sat on the window seat, with her cradled in his arms, on his lap. Hermione looked up at him and said, "Please, get Draco."

"No," he answered.

He looked down at the girl in his arms and he thought, 'What does this mean?'

* * *

_**A/N: this space originally had a rather long rant from me about a very mean spirited flame that I got for my story "A Date by Proxy", anonymously by the way, that attacked me personally, instead of saying anything important about my writing or my story, but I have now decided that I gave the person who wrote it enough attention, so I deleted their flame (both from the story, which meant I once again disabled anonymous reviews) and from this Author's note.**_

**_Thanks to everyone who sent me encouraging words. However, I still feel resolute in my decision that this is my last HP story for this site. As long as this site does nothing to monitor the writers and reviewers of their stories, and it is more about advertising, I feel better off at Granger Enchanted and its sister sites. As I mentioned, I'll post the link to my newest story, "A Marriage Most Inconvenient" on my Author's page here. If I change my mind, I'll let you know. Thanks!_**


	36. Chapter 36 A Vow and an Awakening

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 36: A Vow and An Awakening:**

"Where have you been, Potter?" Draco asked from his place behind a tall pine tree, deep in the forest of Glendora. Harry Potter walked up to Draco Malfoy, and threw him his invisibility cloak. "I've been waiting here almost an hour!"

"Here, take this," Potter said as the cloak went flying through the air. "I had to wait at the loch for a very important Owl, and it just now arrived. It has the forensic evidence that Hermione needs to prove if the last body is that of Marcella O'Brien, and not that of Jennifer Cravens."

"Then Hermione was right, as usual. She'll be pleased as punch. The meeting is well underway, and we've miss half of it," Draco complained with a low hiss. "I got as close as I dared, but I can't hear or see a thing from this far away." Draco shook the wrinkles out of the cloak and placed it over his shoulders. Harry joined him under the cloak and Draco said, "A bit close in here isn't it?"

"Sh," Harry warned. He pushed on Draco's back and the two Aurors went closer to the secret meeting of all seven clans, held in a clearing, deep in the forest, up the path from where they were previously standing.

The men, under the veil of the invisibility cloak, hid behind a large patch of bushes. They saw at least one hundred men, all in black robes, in a circle, and in the middle of the circle was Iver, not Milo. Iver was explaining, with dramatic flare, that now was the time for all the clans to stick together. He declared an outsider was killing these girls. He said that no one felt the loss of Cat MacNeill more than him and his family. He said the death of MacNeill's wife was unfortunate, but that she must have been trying to run away all those years ago, became lost in the tunnels, and perished within, but that it had nothing to do with the deaths of the young outsiders and Cat.

Draco looked over at Harry and raised his eyebrows. Harry shrugged. Apparently, Iver had decided not to tell the clans that Cat's mother had been killed in the same fashion as all the others, but many years before.

Iver told everyone that perhaps it was time for equal rule amongst the clans. He said that clan hierarchy was antiquated and that he and Milo wanted the village to start to govern themselves by a council that was made up of representatives from all the clans. He promised that as soon as the sordid business with the killer was behind them, they would pursue that very thing.

Draco whispered to Harry, "I wonder if that is just Iver's fondest hope, or if Milo really wants that, too. Milo seems to love his power a bit too much. Where the hell is he, anyway?"

"I don't know, but shut up, won't you, and listen," Harry begged.

When a young blond man walked toward the middle of the circle, from his place in the crowd, and demanded to know where Milo was, Iver looked back toward MacNeill, and his cousin, Angus. Then he turned back toward the crowd and he said, "I'm speaking on behalf of my brother, and myself. He's in deep meditation at this time. He's trying to determine what we should do next."

Men began to shout all sorts of things… "Close the borders to outsiders,"… "Get rid of all the Aurors,"… "Milo is to blame,"…some even began to call for an all out war with the Ministry. Iver raised his hands and begged for silence. "Now is not the time for dissention. Now is the time for peace among our clans. We must cooperate with the outsiders, and the Aurors. As soon as they find the killer, they will leave. The Auror, Draco Malfoy, is one of us. He is a descendent from the eighth clan, and he wants to bring peace to our people. He won't allow the Ministry of Magic to interfere with the village or our people. He and Hermione Granger, his mate, are very close to finding the killer, so please give us more time. I ask that of all of you."

An old man stood up, with the aid of a younger man. He held up his hand and begged for silence. "We will give the prince and his brother the time they seek. We have no right to question their authority." He turned to Iver and said, "But know this, Prince Iver, if this Draco Malfoy, son of the eighth clan, cannot find the killer soon, then we shall not continue to hold Milo's word as law. We will exact the ancient edict and have him declared unfit for rule, and your family's tenet, which goes back to our forefathers, will end, and we will announce a prince from the second clan, as is our authority to do so."

"Give us two weeks," Iver pleaded. "We need to bury our dead, mourn our loss, and then find the killer. Two weeks."

The old man shook his head and said, "The second clan agrees to this request. We will give you two weeks. You have our pledge and our loyalty, as always."

A younger man stood and said, "The fourth clan gives allegiance to Prince Iver and Prince Milo. We will give you all the time you need."

Another stood and said, "As leader of the fifth clan, I too give you my alliance and my pledge that we will follow your decree."

"I speak for the seventh, and the lesser clan," an old man said, standing near the edge of the circle. "We give you our agreement to wait, as we need your protection and power."

Another young man stood and said, "I speak for my father, who is too ill to attend, and the sixth clan will do whatever we must to seek peace and we will follow the words and decrees of Prince Milo and his brother."

Finally, the man from the third clan, the blond man who spoke earlier, and the same one who brought the dead girl to the castle the other night, and the one that cursed Draco in the ensuing fight, stood in the middle of the crowd again. Once inside the inner circle he said, "I will only give my allegiance to Prince Milo himself, not to his brother. Tell him that."

"Please, brother," Iver said. "May I have your word, and your peace? My own beloved Cat was a descendent of your clan. In her memory and her name, won't you help us to find her killer?" Iver walked closer to the man and said, "Please, Donald. Please. You have my word that the person responsible will pay with their life."

"That is the word of Prince Iver," the man said. "I need the word of Prince Milo."

Iver drew his wand, which surprised Harry and Draco, since the other man had not drawn his. Harry looked at Draco, and slowly pulled out his own wand. Draco followed. They both held their breath, and their wands, under the cloak, to see what would happen next.

Iver held his wand up in the air, and cast a spell in Gaelic. A ring of green and blue smoke surrounded both men. The entire throng seemed shocked, and surprised. Draco realized the spell had to be one of great importance. When the smoke dispersed, Iver put his arm to his side and said, "Is my word good enough for you now?"

"Under pain of death, yes, Iver, it is," the other man said. He held out his hand and Iver shook it. Everyone began to leave. Iver inhaled a visible sigh of relief.

Draco looked at Harry and said, "Well, I think we missed the best part, because we really didn't learn anything."

"I think we learned a lot," Harry argued. "Where's Milo, anyway?"

"My thoughts exactly, and I asked you the very same thing moments ago and you told me to shut up. Let's go ask Iver," Draco said.

Iver remained in the middle of the clearing, with members of his own clan and family milling around, as Harry and Draco approached. He turned sharply when he heard them come nearer. "Where's Milo?" Draco asked.

"That's a good question," Iver said back. "I was rather hoping he would be with you."

~XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX~

Milo paced back and forth in front of the body of Hermione Granger. He took a deep breath again and looked down at the woman at his feet. She had been sleeping for almost an hour. When would she wake? This had never happened with the spell before. He was worried, afraid, and confused. She had begged him to take her to Malfoy right after he first started his spell up in their office, but he had refused. Instead, he took her deep into the forest, to the old ruins of Dorchester Castle, which is where they remained.

He knelt beside her body, as it lay on the cold floor of the old mating chamber in the dungeons of Dorchester castle and he touched her cheek lightly with his fingers. She was cold.

He sat beside her body and took her hand. He cupped her face with his other hand and said, "Hermione, you must wake up now. Listen to me, you must wake up."

She didn't move. She was so still, that it scared him. He stood up and walked around the chamber. He knew it was late, and that the meeting must be over. He wondered if it still happened without him. Did Iver speak to the clans? Was Draco searching for Hermione? Would they come here to search for them?

He was at the point where he was certain he had done nothing wrong, but then she wouldn't wake up, so now he wasn't so certain. Why would she not wake up? He crossed back over and looked at the beautiful girl lying on the stone floor. In the soft light from the torches on the wall, she looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her. He wanted her. He didn't care if she belonged to another. He only cared what he wanted, and he wanted this young, fresh, beautiful, intelligent woman before him, if only she would wake up. Was this the anguish that his father felt, so long ago? He knew it was wrong to want a woman that wasn't his, yet he still took her, and now Milo was faced with the same dilemma.

Hermione was aware that she was somewhere cold and dark. She was on a floor, on her side. Her body immediately began to protest its placement on the floor. She hurt everywhere, and her eyes would not open. She willed herself to breathe. Breathe. BREATHE. She heard a familiar voice call out her name, stroke her cheek, cup her face, and now lift her upper body into their lap. It wasn't Draco. Why wasn't it Draco?

"Milo?" she whispered, almost in disbelief. Please, don't let it be him. It made no sense that he was here with her. Where was here? Where was she? She opened her eyes, and tried to focus them on her surroundings. Oh God. Not this place. Anywhere but here with this man. She closed her eyes again, and willed it to be a dream.

His hands continued to touch her lightly. He continued to stroke her hair and face. She felt him place a small kiss on the crown of her head. He said her name again. He said he was sorry. Why was he sorry? He was being gentle and kind. He swore under his breath and begged her to open her eyes again. "Open your eyes, Hermione. Open your eyes."

She opened her eyes.

"Look at me."

She looked at him.

"You're safe. Do you remember anything?"

"I don't," she managed to say.

He placed his fingertips on her lips. "Say no more," he urged. He lifted her farther, so that he cradled her on his lap, as he sat against the wall of the chamber. He began to talk, soothing words, mostly to himself. "This has never happened before. I was holding you on my lap, much as I am now, in the castle, in your office. I began to delve into your mind. I tried to press my influence on you, but you resisted. I've never come across such resistance before. All I could see was the love you felt for Draco Malfoy, and I became so angry. I was certain that you felt something for me. Some spark. I had some hope, but no, everything you felt was for him."

"My anger began to consume me, and it rebounded from your brain back to me, and suddenly, you began to convulse in my arms. I was so afraid. I thought you might die. I wrapped you in my coat and brought you here. I've been watching and waiting for you to wake up. Don't be afraid of me, Hermione. I won't hurt you. I could never hurt you. I only wanted to know what all of this means. I thought…I mean…I'm never wrong. I know I saw something there. You felt something for me, and it wasn't hate. It wasn't." He looked down at her finally.

Her eyes were closed again.

She expelled a long held breath and looked up at him. "I'd convinced myself that I hated you. I told Draco that I did. I've tried hard to avoid you, ever since that kiss outside the dining room, or even really before. I want to hate you. You're an enigma to me. I can't figure you out, I can't decipher my own feelings for you, and that's what I really hate. I can't stand not being in control." Hermione swallowed and then said, "I guess what I'm saying is that I'm as confused as you are. I don't know what I feel. I don't think I hate you, but I do know that I love Draco."

"Then you aren't my mate." He sad it sadly, and with finality.

"You must know that I'm not." She brought her hand up to touch his face, but thought against it, and put it back in her lap.

"If you're not my mate, then why do I feel attraction to you?" he asked. "I know I asked you the same things outside the dining room that night, but I really have to know! If you're not my mate, why do I think about kissing you? Why do I want you? Why can I imagine myself with you?"

"Milo, maybe you need to stop looking for your mate, and just open your heart to find love," she said. "Do you think I love Draco Malfoy because he thinks I'm his mate? Do you think I love him because of the ancient magic of this place, or because it's preordained? No. I love him because of the man he's become, and because of the way he makes me feel."

"I could make you love me, you know," he said. "And I once told you that I could take you from him if I wanted to. It's within my right as the Prince of these people. Even if someone else has made a claim, I can usurp it. Hermione, you tell me that perhaps I'm looking for a mate, when I should be looking for love, but have you considered that perhaps you're confused, too?"

He took her hand, the one that was previously injured. There was not even a scar. He kissed her open palm. He kept the hand in his and said, "Maybe you only think you love him _because_ of the magic of the bonding. I forced a blood bond on you and Malfoy. I knew after I did that, you would then make love, which was the second step to bonding. I did that because I wanted you so much, and I knew it was wrong, because you were his, so I forced you two together, thinking it would stop what I was feeling."

"But I loved him before that," she declared. She was suddenly struck by the oddity of the situation. They were together, her on his lap, him on the floor, in a secret chamber, far from everyone else, having the most inane conversation about love and mates, and yet, she wasn't afraid…yet.

"Perhaps you did already have feelings for him, but perhaps I sped it along. Perhaps if I forced a blood bond between us, and if we made love, and then if we took the third step, and declared our bonding in this ancient chamber, you might find that your feelings for me are not so ambiguous any longer."

"Please, Milo. Take me to Draco. We must find the killer. That's what's important." She began to push against his chest, though she still felt weak. His arms, like bands of steel, tightened around her.

"That hardly matters at this point; besides, I now know who the murderer is, and I alone will stop her. I haven't known all along, but after Cat died, and I saw the note, I knew. She will never hurt another person. I promise you that. Most of all, she will never, ever touch you. I plan to stop her. I plan to stop her tonight."

"Who is it?" she asked. "Who is she?"

He placed his fingertips on her mouth to silence her. She trembled with fear under his touch. The silence wrapped with the shadows that danced throughout the chamber, and then danced inside his dark eyes. He lowered his mouth toward hers. She was certain he was going to kiss her; instead, his mouth grazed her bare neck and shoulder.

Then, radiating pain passed through her, and she cried out. She pushed against his chest as his teeth sunk into her, and he drew her life force, her blood, into his mouth. Her sharp intake of breath was one of shock and pain, not pleasure. However, the pushing on his shoulders turned to clutching. His hands pressed on her back, pushing her closer to him.

Her scent was alluring, he knew that from the start, from the first moment he met her, but it was nothing compared to her taste. Her taste was exquisite, rare, enthralling. He stopped sucking and pressed his tongue against the wound to stop the bleeding. She was now limp again in his arms, but she was fully awake. She had only stopped fighting. He pressed his lips against the warm skin of her pulse point, his senses heightened by his desire. He said against her skin, "Blood of my blood, may it bind me to you. The first step is almost done, Hermione, but you must now take some of my blood."

He bit down on his own lip, so that it bled, and held her face in his hands and kissed her mouth finally, a hard, long, passionate, demanding kiss, so that his blood would fill her mouth. Her passiveness was not mistaken for want, and that angered him in a way, so he broke the kiss, and looked deeply into her eyes. Her body felt slack and weak in his arms.

"Kiss me back, Hermione. I want you to, and you want to, as well. We've just exchanged blood. We have started our bonding." He gave her lips another quick kiss, and looked down at her again. Tentatively, her hand went to his face, but then she scratched his face as hard as she could. He pulled her hand away from his face, brought his mouth down on hers again, harder, hungry for her, ferocious and fierce, and she began to whimper and she continued to fight. She was no longer passive, and she was certainly not willing. The shock she felt earlier, from his bite, was waning, and now she was angry. He bit down on her lower lip, drawling more blood. His tongue circled the outside of her mouth, and then plunged inside.

She pulled his hair and pushed on his chest. He didn't care. He didn't notice. All sense of better judgment was shrouded by his intense pleasure for the woman in his arms. He placed her on the floor, off his lap, and placed his body on top of hers. He caressed her arms, neck, and breasts on the outside of her clothing, even as she continued to hit and scratch at him. She began to whimper and cry. She pleaded with him to stop.

His hand went down to cup her bottom, and then came back up to her hip, her waist, and then her breast. He smoothed his hand over her breast, as her fingers again pulled at his hair. Finally, he kissed her again, and her cries became silent. He lifted his head, and saw that she was crying, and that she was no longer fighting. She was lying still on the floor, tears streaming down her face.

He stopped. His head fell down to her shoulder and he said, "Don't cry. Please don't cry. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm sorry. I just want you so much, and I thought you wanted me." He rolled off her so fast that she was shocked by his sudden departure. Then he ran from the chamber, but to her fear, he shut and locked the door, leaving her inside.

She was all alone.

* * *

_Thanks to everyone who gave me such encouragement during the last chapter...I appreciate it so very much, honestly, more than I could express in mere words. The next chapter is done. Now I don't think I can finish this in two chapters, so I'm back to thinking 40 chapters. Oh well, who cares? Thanks again for reading and reviewing and for kind words and for taking the time to tell me to not worry, be happy._


	37. Chapter 37 An Admission and a History

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 37: An Admission and a History:**

Hermione was angry. She was angry at Milo, at herself, and for some reason, at Draco. Where was he? Why hadn't he felt her fear, and come for her right away?

She still felt ill, if not slightly odd. She also felt extreme fear. She was afraid of Milo, of the killer, and mostly of this chamber. She tried to stand, but wavered, so she sat back down. She didn't have her wand, which also angered her. Locked in a cold, dark chamber, with her only light source being a few lit torches, she had no idea if the man who locked her in would come back or not. She had no idea if the man she loved would come and open the door or not. Damn everyone!

She wondered if Draco and Harry would ever find her here. Would Draco ever be able to sense her fear again? He told her that he sensed her fear and anxiety when she was in the tunnels, and that led him to her. Perhaps, just perhaps, her overwhelming cavalcade of emotions she felt now would lead him to her again. On the other hand, maybe there was something in the chamber that blocked their bond. She could only wait and see.

Milo almost raped her. He didn't, but he might have. It was as if Draco's dream of raping Hermione in the chamber came true, only instead of Draco being the culprit, it was Milo. She also realized that Milo said that he knew who the murderer was, and it was a she. What if the murderer found her here before Draco did? Then, she might have an even bigger problem. Yes, she was very angry indeed.

Harry, Draco and Iver started back to the castle and Harry said to Draco, "I can't wait to get this information about the body to Hermione."

"She's probably in bed already," Draco said. He meant to see her safely to bed before he left for the meeting, but she wanted to speak to Milo, so he left them alone. Now he wished that he hadn't left her alone with him. He tried to concentrate on her, to see if he could 'feel' or 'sense' her the way he had the other night when she was lost in the tunnels. He sensed nothing. He didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He turned back toward Harry while they were walking and repeated, "I'm pretty sure she's asleep. You'll have to wait and give her that in the morning. My question is, where in the hell is Milo?"

"Milo must be back at the castle," Iver said to Draco, as he led both men down the path. "I know I told him that Hermione wanted to speak with him, and he went to find her, but that's the last time I saw him. When I noticed that he wasn't in the clearing for the meeting, I started it without him."

"Yes, I left him there with her, but there's no way they could still be talking. I know she talks a lot, but seriously, there's no way, is there?" Draco was aware he was babbling, but he was nervous as hell. He wanted to get back to the castle and check on Hermione. What if she wasn't in bed?

The night was not as dark as it could be, as the moon was full and bright. A large black bird flew overhead, and Iver looked up and said, "That's Milo there. I would bet my life on it. He's heading back toward the castle. It looks as if he was coming from Dorchester castle."

That made Draco feel somewhat better, to know that he hadn't been at Rhodeana castle with Hermione. Harry walked ahead of Draco, with Iver, and when they reached the courtyard of the castle Harry asked, "Iver, what was the spell that you performed to convince the man from the third clan to give us more time?"

"I gave him my oath that we would find the killer, and if we didn't, I would take my own life, as punishment," Iver said. "It's an oath called, 'under pain of death'."

"That's crazy. We might not be able to solve the murders in two weeks," Draco reasoned from behind the other two men.

"Well, we'll have to now," Harry replied.

Draco came up behind them. "Now I have a question for you." He pulled on Iver's arm, as he continued to walk away. Iver spun around as Draco asked, "Was it your idea or your brother's that the clans should forgo the prince hierarchy, and begin to rule as one central governing body?"

"It was my idea," Iver said.

"What if Milo won't go along with that?" Draco asked.

Iver shrugged and said, "At this point, I hardly care what Milo wants. It's what I want from now on that matters. I'm the true prince of the first clan, not Milo and it's time I exert my authority. Everyone already knows it; they just need to accept it." He sat on the steps leading to the front doors.

He hung his head and said, "My father's bonding with his mate was complete, all three steps, the blood exchange, the becoming one of body and soul, which amounts to making love, and then the third, most important…the pledge that they would never forsake each other, or love another, in the bonding chamber. All that was left was the actual wedding the next morning."

"What happened?" Draco asked. He sat beside him on the steps. "Why didn't he marry her?"

"He was selfish. He cared only for himself, not for his people, not for his mate, not for the baby she carried inside her." He looked up into the surprised expression of both men before him. "She was pregnant with my brother. Of course, my father didn't know that when he cancelled the wedding the day after the third step in the chamber, but he kept putting off the wedding, and she was increasing more and more each day. He would leave for days at a time; no one knew where he would go; only that he would leave. The last time he left, he was gone for three months, and his younger brother, Angus' father, Michael, was temporary ruler. He was the one that finally declared that she should marry MacNeill, so the baby would have a father, because it was near her time to deliver. Everyone in the other clans knows this story."

"Two weeks after MacNeill married her, he came back to the village with my mother. He had already married her. Later, Milo was born, and my father took him from the woman, and decided that he and his wife would raise him. Both my father and MacNeill cast her aside, and the third clan declared war on our clan, for the disgrace placed upon the woman. The woman cursed my mother, who by this time was pregnant with me. They cursed my future mate as well. Even when peace was finally brokered, and the woman taken back by MacNeill, the members of the third clan never forgave my father."

"That's a perfectly horrible story," Draco said. He stood and began to pace. "Granger will be appalled. First, he bonds with his mate, knowing full well that he's not in love with her, he gets her pregnant, his clan forces her to marry another, he comes back with a wife, they take her baby from her, and then make her go away. Why would she even come back to MacNeill? No wonder the woman cursed your parents and you, though you were an innocent baby. No wonder the third clan hates your family. It's a bloody melodrama!"

"Believe me," Iver stated, "I know. It was believed that the third clan was responsible for my parents' deaths, many years later, on the eve of their sixteenth wedding anniversary, by burning down Dorchester castle. Milo was almost seventeen at the time, so he was of age, and could become prince, so they timed it well. My Uncle decided not to retaliate. He said it was a just ending, and that it was time for peace. However, someone must have retaliated, because of the way Milo's real mother was killed. She wasn't killed when she first disappeared, as you all believed. My father and MacNeill banished her again, after Cat was born. MacNeill lied to you when he said that she disappeared on her own. They forced her to leave. She went back to her people, but she never showed herself again. Milo never saw his real mother after she left, which was right after Cat was born. She either hid very well or she must have eventually left our village, because she seemed to have vanished, until we found her dead the other night in the tunnels."

"I don't know when she died, or who killed her. I wish I did. I don't."

"This is too much to take in," Draco said. "Wait until Granger hears all of this. So what, that makes you the true prince or something?"

"I'm the legitimate heir, Milo's not. He's considered the lost prince, because he has no real place, since he comes from the third clan and the first, though he is the eldest son of the true prince. Cat was his sister, just as I'm his brother. That's the real reason he could never marry Cat. He never told her that. She died not knowing that he was her brother. Milo means well and he's had a very hard, confusing life. He's never known quite where he belongs. He's never had his mate dream, you see. He truly does feel lost because of it. He's never felt like he's part of any certain clan."

"Was he really cursed when he was born?" Harry asked. "Or was that only you?"

"Only me. I was cursed, as was my future mate. My curse was quite specific. I suffer from this terrible bloodlust. The curse was meant to be that I wouldn't be able to control it, therefore, I could never go through the mating ritual, because when it came time for the blood exchange, bloodlust would take over, and I would kill my mate."

"And how was your future mate cursed?" Harry found himself asking.

Iver stood and sighed. "We found out later, from the woman's journals, after she left, that if I ever revealed my mate dream to anyone, or who the girl was, then she would be cursed to walk the night as a creature from our ancient folklore. There's a story about a beast in that book you have, Malfoy. It's called a Valerian or a Valeriana if it's a woman. A beast, half bird of prey, half-human, with the bloodlust of a vampire, and the allure of a veela. The poor girl was cursed, she has no clue as to the reason why, and the only reason was that I told someone that I had a dream about her. I've never met her, but I know she's out there somewhere, because Milo claimed once that while he was searching for his mate, he found her."

"And she's our killer," Draco said solemnly. "Do you know who she is, even though you've never met her?" He placed his hand on the other man's shoulder.

Iver shook his head no. "I don't. When I had my mate dream, I was very young, a teenager. I told Milo about it. Little did I know, by the simple act of me telling another person about my dream, I activated the curse upon the poor girl. He used his great talent of Legilimency to go into my mind and draw out the dream. He saw her face clearly. Clearer than I did, in fact. You see, in all his travels to find his mate, he's also been trying to find mine, to stop her. I think he surely must know who it is. He found her, a long time ago, but he's kept her from me and me from her. Perhaps, if he had told me about her, shown her to me, I could have stopped her from killing. Perhaps she would have accepted me as I am, and I could have prevented her from being what she's become, or maybe, that's all just a dream."

Draco looked over at Harry and said, "The bastard has known the killer all this time, and he never said a word. Why?"

"I don't know, but we have to find him," Harry stated.

"First, we have to find Granger." Draco bumped past Iver as he walked into the castle, and the envelope with the forensic evidence that Harry gave him earlier fell from his jacket pocket to the ground.

Iver stooped down, picked it up, and handed it to Draco, but he looked at it carefully before he did. He said, "What's this, Malfoy?"

"The proof that the body your brother identified as Jennifer Cravens is instead that of Marcella O'Brien," Draco said slowly. He held out his hand, for the envelope.

Iver handed the envelope to him and dropped back to the steps. He hung his head again and said, "Of course it is. How could the body be that of Jennifer Cravens when I suspect that she's not dead?"

Draco didn't know what Iver meant by that, but he ran inside the castle, his heart beating wildly the whole time, chanting in his head, "be there, Hermione, be there."

Harry was right behind him. After they searched everywhere for her, they ran back down to the Great Hall, to find Iver. They found Milo standing there with his brother, just outside the door. Draco yelled at them, "Where is she? Where's Hermione?"

Both men turned toward Draco, and then turned toward the door, before they became birds and flew away into the dusky purple hue of the impending dawn sky.

Draco cursed the day he came to Glendora!

* * *

_A/N: I know this is a disappointing chapter, which is very short, too! I know I made everyone wait a week for an update, and you didn't even get any Dramione in it, but this is the last of the filler chapters…the last piece of the puzzle, to explain almost everything, before the reveal. I will make you all some promises…the next chapter will definitely have some Draco/Hermione scenes. I'm sorry it took so long to update. I also promise that if I can, I'll get the rest of this story to my beta by Sunday or Monday, because it is done, just written in long hand and very rough. Love to you all!_


	38. Chapter 38 A Brother and a Sister

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 38: A Brother and a Sister:**

Two large, black birds circled the predawn sky, towering above a hillside. One swooped low, tilting its large wings toward the ground, while the other remained high in the sky. A girl looked up at the bird swooping low with a mix of curiosity and anxiety. She watched as the second bird flew back over the hill to places unknown. Her eyes still trained on the second bird, now merely a small fleck on the pink horizon, she suddenly turned startled, when a man appeared behind her and said her name.

"Jennifer?" The man stood between the girl and a small cave on the side of a hill.

"Milo?" The girl was shocked. She hadn't seen Milo for a very long time. She started to throw her arms around him, but he held his hand out to stop her. "What's wrong, Milo? I'm so happy to see you. Aren't you happy to see me?"

"Jennifer, what have you done?" he asked. "How long have you been here?"

"I came back months and months ago. Even after you'd banished me. You thought that spell you put up would block me from returning, but I found a way to come back. Milo…I have a secret. I become a wondrous creature at night. I can do things. It's better than magic, which I can also do, you know. I never told you, but I can, just like my aunt Violet. Isn't that wonderful. I'm like you. We can be together, and we can be more than just friends. I love you, Milo. Do you love me?"

He didn't answer her question. "You've become a monster, and you aren't even aware of it. You've done horrible, terrible things, and I've suspected you for a long time, and I even smelled you here, weeks ago, but I was in denial, because I thought the killings had stopped, but then you killed again. To think, I tried to protect you by telling the Aurors that one of the dead girls was you, so they would never suspect you, but then you killed again!" He took her shoulders and shook her hard.

"Don't be angry with me, Milo. All I've done is gotten rid of the women who were in my way," she said, unabashed. "Those girls wanted to be your mate, and I couldn't let that happen, so I killed them, but that's all I've done."

"No, you killed my Cat!"

"You mean your brother's fiancée? No I didn't," she said, looking wild and confused. "I only killed the outsiders who wanted to fulfill your destiny, and become your mate. I gave them all jewerly that my aunt Violet made, to keep track of them, and then once they were here, in Glendora, I destroyed them, but I wouldn't hurt your brother's mate. I wouldn't."

"That's the thing, Jennifer. She was never really his mate. You stupid, misguided girl! I tried so hard to befriend you." Milo turned for a moment to pace in front of her before continuing. "You're his mate, not mine, but you've done terrible things, and for that, you'll be punished. She was my sister, and you killed her. We had the same mother, and I just found out that she's dead, too, but I don't blame you for her death because it happened years ago and I could care less about that evil woman. The woman who raised me was my mother, but I know you killed the rest of them. I know you can't help what you've become, and that's why I've never punished you before, but I will punish you now. You will be punished for killing my sister."

"NO!" the girl shouted. "I killed Hermione Granger up on that tower!"

Milo shook his head, and pulled out his wand and said, "No, you didn't."

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Two men waited on the loch between the villages of Glendora and Dorchester for more Aurors to arrive. The Aurors who had just left had been called back, the ones working in Dorchester were joining them as well, and even more were coming from all over England.

Harry Potter had requested fifty men and women in all. Excessive, perhaps, but with these volatile people, it might not be enough, so he sent word that more were to be at the ready. He told the Minister of Magic that they found out the identity of the murderer, but not her whereabouts, and that Hermione Granger was again missing, and presumed kidnapped.

His mouth was set in a grim line, and he walked back and forth near the water's edge, kicking reeds and rocks, clenching his fists, trying hard not to let his anger show. He looked over at Draco Malfoy, a man he genuinely didn't like, but who apparently was in love with his best friend, as he sat down on his haunches, pulling on the tall grass, and staring out at the still water. Draco didn't seem angry, indignant, or irate, like Harry was. The man in front of him seemed overwhelmingly sad and out of place.

"Malfoy," Harry spat, ruder than he meant to say it.

Draco stood up, turned around, and looked at the other man.

"If you think she might be in the place that you told me about earlier, then go, look for her there, but if she's not there, come back here immediately, do you understand? And if you find her, send me some sort of sign." Malfoy had wanted to go to Dorchester castle to search for her, but Harry insisted that they wait for the other Aurors, so Draco was forced to come to the loch and wait.

Now Harry could see that was a mistake. He had to let the other man go. Malfoy merely nodded and ran off in the direction of the castle.

Harry Potter looked up in the sky, saw a large black bird lunge over the lock, tilt its wings, and then fly off in the direction of the woods. Then he looked back toward the water as the first boat was approaching, filled with the Aurors who were stationed in Dorchester. Finally, this thing was going to end.

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Iver Dorchester descended the steps of the old, charred castle that was once been home to his family and went directly to the dungeon, to the old mating chamber. His brother told him that he could find Hermione Granger here. He threw open the doors. All of the torches had long since gone out, and even with the light from his wand, it took him a moment to locate her on the floor. She noticed him as well, and she began to back across the ground, her hands in front of her.

"I won't hurt you, I promise, Hermione," he said. With one wave of his wand, all the torches lit again, and he fell to his knees in front of her. Her face was streaked from tears and dirt, her clothes torn and stained. She had dried blood on her neck and lip, and at first Iver backed away when he saw it, but then he inhaled, realized the bleeding had stopped, and reached for her, relieved.

"Where's your brother?" Hermione asked, her hand still out in front of her to stop him.

"He went to find Jennifer Cravens. He thinks she's the murderer. She's my mate. It's just a long story, and frankly, I just don't have time to tell it to you right now." He reached in a pack on his side and handed her a canteen with water. He handed her a small bundle with food, and then most importantly, he handed her a wand. Her wand.

Then he stood up. "I'm leaving you here for a while."

"Please, no, I can't spend another moment here!" she pleaded.

"It's really the safest place for you. Milo set up a ward so that Jennifer wouldn't be able to enter. He told me that he suspects that Jennifer Cravens is the killer, and we are going to punish her, but you must remain safe until we do. Besides, if I know Malfoy, he's likely to come for you very soon. My brother and I left him and Potter not too long ago, and he'll come for you. When he arrives, tell him to keep you here for now, or to take you out of Glendora completely. If you need to escape the chamber, merely say, 'Slàn leat', which means goodbye. It's will open for you."

"Oh, Iver, you know my Gaelic leaves a lot to be desired! I'll never be able to say that!" she said.

He stared at her with wide eyes, and even though the situation was bleak, and she had been through a rough time, he laughed. He pulled her to him, kissed the top of her head, and said, "You're so funny sometimes, Hermione Granger. I'm so glad I got to know you. I wish you a long and happy life. Please, take care of yourself, if I don't see you again." He stood up and said the word to her again in Gaelic. She repeated it just fine. He smiled, put up his hand and turned to go.

"You know your brother tried to rape me, don't you?" she said as he reached the door.

He turned back to face her. "He told me…well, he told me he stopped though. I'm so sorry, Hermione. He's sorry as well. Forgive him, please. He was overwhelmed. I know that's not an excuse, it's just the truth." He turned again but she called out once more.

"Iver! Did he also tell you that he bit my neck? He drew blood. He took my blood, just as surely as if he was some animal...or a vampire," she said steadily. "That day you were locked in the chamber with me, and I was bleeding, you didn't even do that, and you are the one that supposedly suffers from vampirism, not him."

He stopped. He turned around slowly. "What? You must be mistaken. Our people no longer allow that, and he's never shown signs of vampirism before."

"Look at the dried blood on my neck and my shirt. Is that a mistake? Look at the wound on my neck! He didn't tell you that did he?" she asked.

He looked torn, conflicted. "No, he didn't tell me that. I wasn't aware he had committed a blood offense against you. That's very different, but he's my brother, and he's always taken care of me. He loves me more than he loves anyone in the world, and I love him, and these murders have taken a toll on him. He really didn't know for sure the murderer was Jennifer Cravens until tonight. He only suspected it, and he wasn't even certain where he might find her. We'll take care of her. She'll be stopped, and he'll be punished for his blood offense against you."

He walked back over to her and leaned back down. He gave her a small smile and continued, "If he did hurt you, I know he's sorry about it, and he's going to punish himself more than I could ever punish him for it. Forgive him, Hermione. He's not been himself. His mother and sister were killed, and his whole world is slipping through his fingers. I'm sorry he hurt you, and he'll never do it again." He gave her another weak smile, and then left, closing the door behind him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Draco reached the outskirts of the castle's remains just as a large black bird flew overhead. He couldn't believe it was a coincidence, it had to be Milo or Iver. He ran into what was once the castle's Great Hall, down the stone steps, slipping once. He cut the side of his hand on a jagged stone. He stood back up, ran to the chamber, lit the torch by the doors, and placed his hand on the latch and opened the doors to walk inside the chamber to find Hermione.

He entered and closed the doors behind him. The muted sounds of sobs drifted toward him. If she were hurt, he would not hesitate to kill someone. She was sitting by the wall, huddled in a small ball, looking lost and forlorn. Even from this distance, he could see that she was racked with sobs. Her hands covered her face, muffling the sounds.

He looked around, noticed they were alone, and then he wondered if she had noticed that he had entered. He knelt beside her, and said her name in an attempt to comfort her. "Granger? Are you hurt? Are you okay?" It didn't matter what her answer was, because he could see that she was certainly NOT okay. She lifted her face, lowered her hands and looked at him with eyes so dark, so deep, so round, so sad that his heart broke.

"You finally found me," she said. "How did you find me? Did you finally feel that I needed you?"

"No, I didn't feel a thing," he said back. He felt stupid saying that, the moment it left his mouth. He reached for her arm, but she shrugged him away.

"It doesn't matter," she said. She struggled to stand. He again tried to offer her some assistance, but she wouldn't take his hand. However, she was too weak to stand on her own. She tumbled back to the ground.

"Hermione, let me help you," he urged. He stretched his hands out toward her.

She grasped his injured hand and she touched the blood on the side of his hand with her fingers. She asked, "Why didn't you feel me?" Her doe eyes stared daggers into his soul.

"I'm sorry, I don't know," he said. He withdrew his bloody hand from hers, wiped it on his shirt, and then added, "I'm here now. What happened? How did you get here?"

She shook her head, hung it again, covered her face with one hand and said, "Milo." That was all she said. Just one word. Milo.

"Milo brought you here?" he asked back

She looked up at him and yelled, "YES, MILO BROUGHT ME HERE!"

"Okay, sweetheart," he said. He didn't know what else to say. "Let's get back to the castle."

"You didn't feel me," she repeated. "Why didn't you feel me? Was it because Milo was successful?"

"For Merlin's sakes, Granger!" he snapped. "I'm sorry! Maybe I couldn't feel you in this chamber, but I guessed that you were here, and I'm here now. Doesn't that count for something? I'm sorry. I didn't know. I wish I had, but I didn't. Why did Milo bring you here? What did you mean by Milo being successful?"

"He brought me here to make me his mate," she said very softly.

"What?" He sincerely didn't hear her. He knelt back down, reached over with one hand, and stroked her hair away from her face. He placed his wand from his hand in a jut on the floor, so that it could afford him light to see her better. He saw that her clothes were torn, and that there was blood on her face, near her lip. "What did you say, again? Why were you bleeding? Why are your clothes torn?"

"Milo brought me here to complete the three steps of mating," she said just as softly as before.

Draco stood up. He grabbed his wand and held it so tightly that it almost snapped in two pieces. He then shined the light from the tip right at her face, as if he were interrogating a suspect. "What did he do?" She shook her head no. "TELL ME!" Draco demanded.

"NO!" she shouted back. He walked toward his right, to get a better look at her, and he saw the blood on the neckline of her blouse. He rushed to her, fell to his knees, grabbed her shoulders, and then pulled back the collar of her blouse. He saw two puncture wounds and dried blood.

"That bastard bit you?" Draco shouted.

She began to hit at his hands. He released her. He stayed on the ground by her and demanded, "What else did he do? He did the blood bonding, what else? Did he rape you, Hermione?"

If she said yes, he would kill him. He would. He would do it without any qualms, whatsoever. His head felt as if it would burst in two. He felt such a surge of emotions and pain that he felt overzealous, and overwhelmed. He realized that he was just now feeling her residual feelings, rebounding back toward him, combined with his own feelings, and together they were almost too much for him to handle. He closed his eyes for a moment, and struggled to remain on his feet. It was his nightmare, come true.

He opened his eyes, and said, "It's alright, Hermione. I feel you now. I know what happened. You don't have to tell me anything. It's okay. You'll be fine. You don't have to brave anymore. Let me be brave for you." He fell back to his knees, pulled her into his arms, and she went willingly.

His arms tightened, and she felt both happy and sad in his embrace. She gave up all pretenses, and gave into the strength and support he offered her. She felt his warm lips near her hairline. "It's fine, it's fine," he repeated.

Her heart finally slowed from the full, battle, drum roll, to a fine, steady beat. Her breathing calmed from shallow breathes to a deep, luring, calmness. Her headache began to lift, and the pain that encompassed her entire body became nothing but a dull ache. Her vision, which was blurred before, was sharper, and her mind became clearer. She grasped his arms, and he rocked her steadily. He continued to say that he was sorry, that he could feel her now, and he would never leave her again.

She tilted her head toward his, his warmth and his essence filled her with calmness and peace. She placed her head against his shoulder and sighed. She looked once more into his steel grey eyes and she reached for his face, her fingertips skimmed the outline of his brows and nose. He caught her hand in his and kissed her fingertips gently.

Her spirit felt battered and bruised, but not broken, not when he was near. He kissed her hand again, on the outside, then her palm, then her wrist. Her heart felt as if it would take flight at each lovely sensation.

Inside, where he used to feel an empty, raw, numbness, he now only felt love for her, and the contrast of the before and after were almost too much for him to bear. He felt besieged by the newfound feelings, and he placed her gently on the floor, because he wanted to savor each new emotion, and he wanted to do this first by making love to her, right here, right now, right in this chamber. First, he passed his wand over her body, slowly, to heal any injuries, or any remnants of Milo's indiscretion and mistreatment.

He stretched out beside her, her arms around his neck, and he kissed her face, all around, the light from the torches playing with the features of her face. He couldn't believe how beautiful she was, and that she was really his. She submitted to his passionate embrace…forgetting time, place, and what had occurred earlier. She lived in the moment. He did not have to bring her to this point in time, she came willingly. She had no care or concern right now except for the man beside her.

She loved everything about him. She loved the way he caressed and embraced her. She loved the way he gently undressed her, and placed his coat underneath her. She loved the way he placed a warming charm over her, and the careless smile that came to his face when she blushed as he took off his own clothing.

Suddenly, there was no time, or space, or danger from the outside world. There was no chaos, no murders, and no monsters. There was only love, pleasure, and desire. She gasped when his mouth found her breast and then her nipple, and he kissed, sucked, and pulled her into a mad, frenzy, want.

He palmed her breasts, and kissed down her stomach. She felt weightless, light, and devoid of dark thoughts. She was filled totally with him, wanting him, needing him, being one with him. He stroked down her stomach, his hand flat, to her hip and thigh.

She wanted him.

He kissed down her body...She wanted more.

He kissed and teased her breasts...She needed more.

He stroked between her legs, and entered her with his fingers, making her gasp, making her cry out, and still, it wasn't enough. There was only awareness, and need, and want, but she still needed so much more. He kissed her mouth again, long and sweet and full of promise.

Then he moved inside her, stroked her fully, engulfed her, and she cried out, and begged for more. She needed more. He gave her more.


	39. Chapter 39 A Prince and a Princess

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 39: A Prince and a Princess:**

After they made love, in the dim light, Draco looked down at the woman beside him, and he covered her with his jumper the best that he could. She had a beautiful body, soft, made for pleasure, made for him. She had seemed so vulnerable when he had first entered the chamber. Now she seemed as if she had relinquished her vulnerability for something else, and he wasn't sure what that something else was. She was forever a mystery to him.

He cleaned them both with his wand, paying special attention to the wound on her neck. He slowly dressed, forgoing his jacket, which was under her, and jumper, which was over her. She stayed where she was for a while longer, watching him. She eventually joined him, though she was still weak from the spell the night before, and now from their lovemaking.

He took a drink from the canteen and he said, "I can't believe we did that in here of all places. I also can't believe that I didn't hurt you, or even want to hurt you. I couldn't hurt you. I know that now." He knew that sounded odd, or even stupid, but he needed to have her hear it, as much as he needed to say it.

"I can't believe we've made love only twice, and each time was on a cold, stone floor, in a cave or a dungeon. Next time, I want a soft bed. I demand it," she said, as she tried to put on her clothing.

He helped her to dress, and then he said, "You demand a lot of things, don't you, Princess? If you demand we make love every day of the week, well, it would be an awful sacrifice on my part, but I guess I would give in to your demands." She gave him a look that bordered on amusement and disgust, so he smiled and said, "Are you ready to go? The Aurors are all bound to be here by now, and I don't know where Milo and Iver are, but I, for one, don't want to encounter Milo here, because I might still kill him."

She drew her knees up to her chest and asked, "Do you think less of me because I didn't fight him off? That I didn't defend myself better?"

He couldn't believe she would ask such an asinine question. "No, because he probably had you under that spell of his. I understand. You're a strong, capable, woman, Hermione Granger. I know that better than anyone." He tried to offer her a hand, to help her to stand. Instead, she took his hand in hers, healed it with her wand, and then she batted it away. He placed his hands on his hips. "What?" he asked.

She looked up at him and said, "I'm not weak, you know. I not some feeble female who constantly needs rescuing, though it might appear that I have needed help a lot since we've arrived here. Usually, I'm strong and I'm not afraid of much, either."

"I know. You're the strongest person I know, and I mean that sincerely." And he did. "I only meant to give you a hand up. Can you stand on your own? We should get out of here. I have so much to tell you."

"Tell me now," she urged. She patted the stone ground beside her.

He sat down and told her everything Iver had told them. She filled in him in on everything that Milo had told and done to her. He found that he had to bury his fists in his pockets a few times, to keep from hitting the stone wall or the floor, in anger, but he kept his anger to himself.

Draco said, "I can't believe he knew that dead girl wasn't Jennifer Cravens, and that he already suspected that she was the killer, and yet he did nothing. It was because of that, that Cat died, and that you were almost killed." He pulled her toward him and hugged her tightly.

"When do you think Iver suspected?" she asked.

"I don't know."

She pushed away from Draco and said, "The thing that bothers me is how easily both brothers have lied to us, and manipulated us from the beginning. Why try to make our job harder? If they knew Milo had a different mother, they should have told us. They should have told us about Cat. They should have told us about Jennifer Cravens in the beginning. Why all the secrets and lies? I don't believe it had anything to do with the fact that they can't tell outsiders about their world, because they told us some things, and kept other things from us."

"I wonder if Iver knew about Milo's vampirism all along. Also, Iver told me once that when he had his mate dream, at the age of fourteen, he dreamt of a woman with blond hair and blue eyes, but Jennifer Cravens, if she's his mate, has brown hair and eyes. Why lie about something like that?"

"Maybe Milo implanted false memories in Iver's head," Draco said. "I mean, he's an accomplished Legilimens. What I don't get is that Milo must have suspected her from the start, so why did he need to involve us, or the Ministry? He could have tried to stop her himself. That's what they're apparently doing now. And you do realize that if your little book of folklore is to be believed, I'm not the Lost Prince at all. Milo is. Iver said it himself, which means that maybe Milo had some feelings for this Jennifer, but he knew she was Iver's mate, and he couldn't act on it. I don't know, I'm just glad I'm not the Lost Prince. I would hate it if you killed me."

Hermione looked surprised, poked him in the chest, and she said, "You little sneak! You did read the ending of the story! You knew all along that the girl killed the Lost Prince, who was her true love, when the real prince tried to claim her. You lied to me."

"So?" he said with a shrug.

"Well, that's just…wrong, and well, rude. Your title of Lost Prince is relinquished and you're once again just plain old Prince Rude."

"At your service," he said. He stood up and bowed to her. "Do you want to leave now, or shall we continue to discuss the oddities of this village and this case?"

"No more talking, I just want to get out of here," she said. She tried to stand again, but landed back down on her bum. "I guess I'm still a bit woozy, but that doesn't mean I'm weak." He sighed and then smirked at her comment. She finally looked at the door and said, "Tell me you did not shut the doors tight when you entered earlier."

"Well, hell, that was over an hour ago, and of course I did. I was afraid that some crazy Dorchester brother, clansmen, or wild beast woman might be out there waiting for us. Why?"

"Damn, Malfoy, that means that we're trapped in here!" she said.

Draco frowned, then walked over and tried to open the doors. "Why are we trapped?"

"Because Milo put a ward on the doors, and we can only get out with a password!" she seethed.

"I do hate that man!" Draco raged back.

"If I could only remember the damn word!" she said in response.

"You heard him say the word?" Draco asked, turning toward her.

She looked up at him, feeling guilty, and she said, "No, I didn't hear Milo say the word, but Iver told me the word when he brought me my wand and the water and provisions."

"Well, then, fuck all of this, Granger, excuse my language, but just say it and let's get out of here!"

"I can't!" she said.

"WHY?"

"I don't remember it!" she said back.

"You can't remember one little word?" Draco accused.

"It's not a little word!" she accused.

He took a deep breath, tried to remember that she had been through a horrid ordeal, and then calmly he said, "Try to remember it, sweetheart."

"It's in Gaelic," she said with a whine. "I seem to have a mental block when it comes to Gaelic, and I don't know why, plus, perhaps if you had asked for the password before we had made love just now, I might have recalled it, but the lovemaking threw me for a loop."

"First, Granger, I wasn't aware that the first thing out of my mouth when I entered the chamber was supposed to be, 'give me the password', and how convenient it is to blame me because you can't learn a fairly simply language," Draco snapped. "My prowess as a lover isn't that great that it would make a woman smart as you suddenly dense, anyway, so I'm not buying that. Don't blame me, Princess 'I Have Mush for Brains Because Draco Shagged Me'."

"Hey, hey, don't start calling names, or laying blame on my doorstep, either, Prince Rude! I'm usually a very fast learner, and I usually have instant recall, but I really do have trouble with Gaelic." She looked down at the hem of her shirt, and she pulled on a loose thread.

He felt bad for being angry with her. He knew some of those Gaelic sayings were difficult. He sat beside her on the floor, took her hand, and said, "Listen, Princess, I know those Gaelic saying are long, and very phlegm inducing, but maybe if you try to think about it in English first, that might help. Did he tell you what it meant in English? Maybe if you say the sentence in English first that will help."

"It's not really a sentence," she said sheepishly. He sat beside her, pulled her hand from the bottom of her shirt and grasped it tightly in his.

"What, is it a long saying, a poem or something really complicated like that?" he asked.

She shrugged, and then said, "Goodbye."

"Why are you telling me goodbye?" he asked. He brought her chin up with his finger, and forced her to look at him.

"That's the English translation. Goodbye. It's the word for goodbye. Goodbye. I can't remember one little word, for goodbye." She smiled at him, then frowned again, and then looked back down at the ground.

He stared at her long and hard. He had so many biting remarks he wanted to say, but she had recently been hurt, and she still seemed somewhat sad, and whatnot. However, if she were in her prime, he would let her have it…brightest witch of their age, his foot. One simple little word and she'd already forgotten it, and Iver just told it to her right before Draco got there. She finally looked up at him, threw her hands up in the air and said, "Just say it! I know you have a cutting remark on the edge of your tongue!"

"Fine! One measly little word and you can't remember it." He stood and began to pace back and forth in front of her. "You can freeze a whole crowd in a pub with a silent spell! You can figure out complicated runes, you're an expert an magical DNA, you're so smart that it scares me sometimes, you constantly make me feel like a complete and utter idiot, yet you can't remember one little Gaelic word like 'Slàn leat'?"

"Draco! You just said it!"

He shook his head. "I did?" He turned and saw that the doors had opened. "I guess I remembered it from the clan meeting tonight. All of the little weirdoes in their black hoods went around saying it to each other when it was over with, and I suppose it just stuck in my brain."

"You yelled at me for nothing," she reprimanded, "when you should have been nice to me instead."

"Yeah, well, I can't quite give up my Prince Rude title so soon, can I?" He bent down and picked her up. She grabbed their wands. "I'm only carrying you because I want to, not because you're weak, feeble, or frail, got it?" She kissed his cheek and nodded.

"Malfoy, before we leave, I know it's silly, but I want to say something to you," she said. She reached up and stroked his cheek.

"Hurry up, you're not light as a feather, you know," he joked.

"It's just, we've already done two steps of the bonding, in the cave with the springs, and even just now, in this mating chamber, there was blood, and we made love, and that's two steps, and though I don't know the right words to the third step, we're here in this room, so I want to say that I, Hermione Granger, being of sound mind and somewhat sound body, give myself freely to Draco Malfoy as his mate, forever, and ever, because I love him very much." She smiled.

He smiled wider, juggled her in his arms, and said, "There you go with those long sentences again, and hell, Granger, that sounded like a bloody testimonial. Okay, here's mine, I give myself to you, mind, body and soul, because I love you and no other, and will for all of the days of my life. You're my mate in life and death forever. See, my little vows were sweet and romantic. Yours sounded like a reading of will or something…with that 'being of sound mind and body' rubbish."

She rolled her eyes and said, "It's good to be back with you, Malfoy. I missed your rudeness, sarcasm, and general cantankerousness."

"Spell that," Draco said, "Because if you can't spell it, you can't call me it."

"I can spell cantankerousness, Malfoy," she complained.

"Really? You couldn't remember the Gaelic word for goodbye," he said with a sly smile.

She sighed, leaned her head against his shoulder, and said, "Take me back to the castle. We have a murderer to catch."

"I'll take you back, but you'll stay behind, and Potter, the Aurors and I will catch Jennifer Cravens, and I'm taking you back to Dorchester, not to Rhodeana castle or Glendora, and I won't hear another word of argument about it, and it's not because you're weak, but because I love you and can't live without you."

She didn't argue. She closed her eyes, and decided that she would let him take her anywhere that he wanted to take her.

Later that day, in the same little motel where they started their journey, Hermione Granger sat in a warm tub of water, eyes closed, radio on, waiting for word from Draco or Harry. They left her there to go search for the Dorchester brothers and for Jennifer Cravens hours ago, and after hours spent adding everything they had learned into her computer, she had decided to take a long, hot bath. What she really wanted to do was to sleep, because she was so very tired, but she knew she couldn't sleep until everything was over and the men were back. There was a bevy of Aurors guarding the motel, so she felt relatively safe, but still, until she had Draco and Harry safely back with her, she wouldn't be able to rest.

It was after noon, and she hadn't eaten breakfast, let alone lunch, so she got up from the tub, quickly dressed, combed out her wet hair, and went to the door of the motel to ask one of the Aurors to go to the pub to get her some lunch. She opened the door, and found that no one was there. She knew that wasn't right. She looked outside, to the right, and then to the left. No one was anywhere. She slowly closed the motel room door. She walked over to the bed, where her computer was still open and on. She closed it, picked it up, and looked under it for her wand. She didn't see it on the bed. She opened the top dresser drawer, still no wand. She walked over to the bedside stand, when she remembered that she left it in the bathroom.

She walked in the bathroom door, and that was when she saw a dead woman standing right in front of her, by the bathtub. She didn't scream, because frankly, after everything that had happen since this whole nightmare began, she really wasn't afraid. Instead, she thought, 'Oh, damn.'

* * *

_A/N: Can you believe only one chapter to go? I had fun with this chapter. It was good to get back to the old "Dramione" banter. I wonder who the dead woman is? There's been so many..._

_On a lighter note (much lighter than dead women) I sent the first chapter of my new fic, "A Marriage Most Inconvenient" to my beta today, and I'm so looking forward to writing that story! It's the only story where I have ever written a love scene in the very first chapter, which makes me nervous. I also might reconsider and post it here when she sends it back, but I am still leaning toward a 'NO' on that, but we'll see. I'm feeling better and happy about things, so I might reconsider. Thanks for all the support everyone gave me during this story. I can't believe it's almost over with. I started it back in June, and now it's October! WOW! Five months! _


	40. Chapter 40 A Beginning and An End

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 40: A Beginning and an End:**

**Part I:**

"How did you manage it?" Hermione asked. She wasn't afraid, she wasn't even terribly surprised. Actually, somehow, she suspected that Violet Edgewater wasn't really dead all along.

"Do you mean, how did I manage to get past all the Aurors, or how did I manage to come back to life?" Violet asked with a sad smile.

"Well, you can answer both, but I'm really curious about how it is that you aren't dead right now, since I did an autopsy on your body," Hermione stated matter-of-fact.

"It was easy enough. I found a way to use polyjuice potion on a body when it is just recently deceased. Don't worry, I didn't kill anyone. Jennifer took care of that. She found a young maid from the motel alone in your room, right after you spoke with Milo the first time, and having never met you, she thought it was you, so she killed her. I found the body before you did, polyjuiced it to appear as me, and you all did the rest."

"Why did you want everyone to think that you died?" Hermione asked, "And more importantly, what about the girl who really died? What about her family?"

"I knew her. She was alone in the world, she had no one, no family, not that it clears my conscience much," the older woman said. "It was imperative that Jennifer think that she killed me. I thought that would make her stop. I was wrong. May we go out to the other room and finish our talk?"

Hermione looked down at her wand, where it lay on the bathmat. Violet's eyes followed Hermione's and she said, "By all means, get your wand. I mean you no harm." Hermione leaned down, picked up her wand, all without taking her eyes off the older woman.

Then she pointed her wand at Violet and said, "Have a seat on the bed and start talking."

Violet sat on the bed and said, "I persuaded Milo to call the Aurors in the beginning. We both suspected Jennifer of the crimes, after the university students went missing. We didn't really suspect her concerning the other missing girls. It wasn't until the last two went missing that we began to suspect Jennifer was responsible for those victims also."

"No," Hermione said, leaning against the dresser, her wand still pointed at the woman. "Start at the real beginning, and don't use the old excuse that you can't tell me anything."

"There really is a curse that keeps us from talking, but I can fill in the gaps of what you already know," Violet decided. "When I was a little girl, I was different from other little girls. I could do things. My great-grandmother told me that she was a witch, and she told me the legends of Glendora, and how Dorchester was formed. She told me about the eighth sister, and how we were her descendents, but that for most of us, the magic was all but lost. For a few lucky ones, like me, the magic remained in our blood."

"I became best friends with a little girl named Tessa. She was blonde, blue eyed, beautiful. She was a distant cousin of mine. Her grandmother and my grandfather were first cousins. She too had the gift of magic. She too had to keep it secret."

"When our Hogwarts letters came, we weren't aloud to go. We were forbidden by our relatives, who feared that the other members of our village would find out that we were magical, but the funny thing was, there were many magical people in hiding in Dorchester. I think the real fear was that the people of Glendora would discover that we still had magical people amongst us."

"So we went to regular schools, and practiced our magic on our own, on the side. We still had to register with the Ministry. The summer we were both eighteen, a boy named Alexis came to our village. He was dark as night…dark completion, dark eyes, dark straight hair, and too good looking for words. He fell in love with Tessa, and she with him."

"He told us both stories about Glendora. That's how I came to write my book, from his stories. He was already bonded to his mate, and he was prince of not only his clan, the prime clan, but of all his people, but he didn't love his mate. I found that odd. Why have a mating system if you don't automatically love your mate? Nevertheless, he gave her up to marry Tessa, in secret. Then, in the dead of night, he took her away from our village. She came and said goodbye to me. She wrote to me often. She told me that his bonded, a woman named Cairistiona, also known as Cairis, had his baby and that she too was with child. She said that Alexis had stolen the baby boy from his mother, and that he had asked Tessa to raise him. She said she instantly loved the little boy, and that she him Milo."

Hermione moved from the dresser to sit next to Violet. The older woman let out a long breath before she continued. "Her next letter was darker. She wrote to tell me that her son Iver had been born. He was a beautiful little boy and they were very happy, but Cairis, her husband's bonded, heard of this upcoming joyful event. As little Iver drew his first breath, Cairis cast a terrible curse, the curse of vampirism, which often plagued the Valdes in previous generations. Even more disturbing than her curse on poor Iver though was what she did to her own son. She apparently also cast the same curse on Milo, and lastly she performed two other curses on the boys. She cursed her own son so that he would never have his mate dream. She wanted him to walk the ends of the earth, to look for his mate, and never to find her, to punish her own mate for forsaking her. Then the woman cursed baby Iver's future mate, with the curse of the Valeriana. The moment Iver had his mate dream, and revealed it to anyone, at that very moment, the curse would be activated. The mate that the dream revealed would turn into a beast at night. That person, we learned years later, was my own niece, Jennifer."

The old woman hung her head, and began to cry. "Jennifer was thirteen years old the first time she turned into a beast at night. She killed a flock of sheep in the village. Of course, the only people who knew it was she, besides me, was my brother, his wife, Tessa, and her husband Alexis, because I wrote to them. At the time, their sons were 14 years old, and almost 16. Alexis was so enraged that Cairis had threatened exposure of their village by extending her curse to someone unknown that he ordered her death. She was living with the third clan at the time, having been banished by MacNeill many years before, after she delivered her daughter, Catriona."

"That edict never took place. The night before her execution was scheduled, Alexis and his wife, my best friend in the whole world, Tessa, was killed in a fire, set by members of Cairis' family. The boys narrowly escaped the fire."

"I was so enraged, so angry, that I took Jennifer into Glendora, in the dead of night, with great danger to myself and to her, and I confronted the entire third clan. I called the woman out, and demanded satisfaction. I challenged her to a duel. Everyone in her clan laughed at me. They taunted me, threw curses and hexes at both poor Jennifer, and me, so we left, but we hid near the loch. That night, Cairis was leaving the village by boat; she was probably going into hiding, afraid that we might call the Muggle authorities, or the Ministry. Instead, I unleashed my niece on her, in all her cursed glory."

Hermione looked at the woman, shocked. "Jennifer's first victim was Milo and Cat's mother?"

"Yes, she killed the woman when she was only a child, just thirteen years old. It was the first person she killed. We took the body to Rhodeana castle, and MacNeill said he would hide it."

"MacNeill hid her body in the tunnels? I should have known. I never fully trusted that man. You could have gotten help for Jennifer, you know, you could have contacted the Ministry," Hermione said with spite. "Many people would still be alive today, if you had."

"Sometimes I wish I had gotten help from the Ministry," the woman said softly. "Around that time, Milo began to come to the village. He was the new prince of his people, and he was young, just seventeen, but he was searching for his mate. I told him everything. I told him who I was, about his real mother, and about Tessa, who was the only mother he had ever known. Then I told him about Jennifer, and about the curses Cairis had cast on him, Iver and Jennifer. He became interested in Jennifer. He became a friend to her. No one around here liked her. She was lonely. She was exiled from her family because of her differences, and I was the only one that could control her changing. I even taught her to control the change, so that she could change at will. Milo was kind to her. He told her about the village, about the Valdes, and even about Iver. He promised her that someday she could go there to live. I think, in many ways, he fell in love with her. I know she fell in love with him."

Violet smiled a true smile and said, "She is so very beautiful, you see, but her mind, well, she's very child like."

"Yes, I saw her picture," Hermione agreed, "and she is very beautiful, but she's also a killer, and the very fact that you just admitted that she can change at will tells me that she's a cold blooded killer, at that. These murders were premeditated, and calculated. Why didn't you and Milo try to stop her when you first suspected."

"We couldn't find her at first," Violet reasoned. "At least, Milo claimed he couldn't, but I know he has that superior smelling ability, and he has second sight, like me. I suspect he knew where she was. I imagine Milo wanted to protect her because a part of him loved her. More than that though, Milo loves his brother more than he loves anyone, and Jennifer is his brother's mate."

"That's when I decide that we needed to call the Ministry. I told him if he didn't call them, I would. I told him to let the Ministry catch her, and that way, the responsibility of capturing her would be theirs, and they would be the ones guilty of betraying her, not him."

"Yet, he's been working against you, keeping you at bay, keeping you from finding out it was she, even leading you to believe that she was a victim herself, because he's been in denial. In other ways, I think he has been trying to help you. He's in the ultimate quagmire. He doesn't want his brother to go without a mate, he doesn't know what to do with his feelings for you, and most of all, I don't think he wants to believe that she's become an animal, a killer. I know I don't want to think that, either."

"The turning point came when she killed Cat. I mean, not only was he beginning to have deep feelings for you, but adding that to his long standing feelings for Jennifer, his confusion was shaking his confidence in himself. He questioned the veracity of his feelings especially since neither of you are his mate," Violet concluded.

"I once told him that perhaps he needed to stop looking for his mate, and love might just happen upon him," Hermione told her.

"Wise words," Violet said. "I really couldn't just come out and tell you all of this because of the ancient curse. I wanted the book to lead you to the answers, and I didn't know that Iver and Milo would tell you so many falsehoods, and try to confuse you so much. Now, I just want it to end. I don't want any more bloodshed. I want Jennifer to pay for her sins, just as I must pay for mine, because I was the cause of Cairis' death, by exposing her to Jennifer."

"That's for the Wizengamot to decide, not me," Hermione declared. "Thank you for finally being honest. I just realized something. The DNA of the body we thought was yours and the body we thought was Jennifer's wouldn't have matched even if that body was Jennifer's, because the first body wasn't yours."

"That's right," Violet said.

"Where are all the Aurors? How did you get rid of them, and sneak into my room?" Hermione asked.

The old woman smiled again and said, "I'm almost as good at magic as you are, Miss Granger. They're nearby. I might have started a small riot in the town square, to draw their attention away from here and even though your Mr. Malfoy put up all sorts of wards around this motel, I might have found a way in anyway." The old woman seemed quite proud of herself.

"Okay," Hermione said slowly, "What shall we do about Jennifer, Milo and Iver? Do you even know where they are?"

"No, I don't," she answered honestly.

"Does Milo know you're alive?" Hermione asked.

"No one does, but you," she answered.

"Here's what we're going to do," Hermione began, "I'm calling some of the Aurors back here to watch you, and I'm going to ask a few of them to take me back across the loch. Then we're going to find Draco and Harry, tell them what we know, and search for Jennifer, even if we have to use me for bait." Hermione stuck her wand in her pocket, and put her jacket on, and then she looked at the older woman and said, "Since Jennifer obviously sees me as a threat, I think my presence will draw her out, don't you? Now, do you have any of that jewelry on you?"

**Part II:**

Harry, Draco and three other Aurors were searching the vast, thick forest all around Glendora. There were more Aurors stationed all around the village, at each exit and entrance in and out, at each of the clan's primary castles, as well as some at Dorchester castle, and Rhodeana castle. They had been searching for the Dorchesters and for Jennifer Cravens for hours, and as the noon sun began to move in the sky, denoting the beginning of afternoon, Harry was beginning to wonder if they had left the village, and if the search for them was in vain.

He sat down near a stream, his hand coming to rest in the water, when he saw a shadow fall over him. He looked up slightly, and saw Draco on the other side of the stream, so he knew the shadow was someone unknown. Draco looked over toward them sharply, immediately, as soon as Harry was aware of the other person being there, and then Draco cursed a blue streak. Harry stood quickly, drew his wand, and tumbled the other person to the ground.

Draco apparated beside them and said, "Get the hell off her, Potter! Damn, I'll never get Potter germs off her now."

"Well, if you hadn't started yelling and screaming like a little girl, making me think it was an enemy behind me, perhaps I wouldn't have come up swinging," Harry shouted, still sitting on Hermione's hips.

Her friends amused Hermione. "Aren't you two happy to see me? Ouch, Harry, I think my bum's on a rock. Get off me, you're heavy!"

"Get off her!" Draco reiterated. He pushed on Harry's shoulder, and then gave his hand to Hermione. He pulled her to a stand, and brushed off her back and backside, and then he shouted, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"He brought me," she said, pointing to a young Auror.

"You're arse is so fired!" Draco shouted.

"You can't fire me," the young man said. "You're just an Auror, like me."

"Potter, do some good, and fire this git," Draco said.

"Why did you bring her, Timmons?" Harry asked. "It's not safe for her here."

"That's why she's here, Sir. She wants to use herself as bait to draw out the murderess," the young man said. "We all thought it was a good idea, and the old woman, Violet Edgewater, said she thought it would work, as well."

Harry looked confused and said, "A dead woman told you Hermione's idiotic plan would work?"

Hermione threw one arm around Harry's neck and said, "She's not dead, and it's not idiotic. Listen to me, and I'll explain." She told them all her plan, and about her talk with the 'dead' Violet Edgewater.

"See, gentlemen, my original theory was correct. The killings are based on jealousy. Jennifer kills everyone she sees as a threat to her, because she loves Milo, even though she's Iver's mate. She doesn't even know Iver. She saw my strange reaction to Milo that first day, in Dorchester, and she became jealous. That's what compelled her to kill that poor girl in our room. She assumed that girl was I and inadvertently provided Violet with an opportunity to fake her own death. She thought it would bring the mystery to a boil, and lead us to find the book of stories in her bookstore, which it did, thanks to me." She gave Draco a, 'so there' look because he hadn't wanted to go to the bookstore that day, but she insisted.

"It makes perfect sense, because she's been trying to kill me since I got here. Violet believes Jennifer blew my car up that first night, and that she might even have been responsible for my being shot, in some way. She locked Iver and me in the chamber that day; she killed Cat thinking she was me, because Cat was wearing the jewelry that night." She turned to Draco, "I was also right about that, you see, she uses the jewelry as a way to track the girls, because when she's the beast, she can't see us as human, so she relies on her sense of smell, and the unique ore used to make the jewelry sends off an odor that only she can smell."

Hermione lifted her hair and showed both men that she had on a pair of earrings that matched the jewelry. "Courtesy of Violet, thank you very much."

"Take those off!" Draco shouted. "Potter, fire Granger, too!"

Harry frowned and said, "No one's getting fired. Malfoy, it may be our only way to get her. We'll be right here. We won't even let Jennifer get close enough to touch her."

Hermione jumped up and down, happily, and said, "Yes! See, it'll work." She turned to Draco and said, "Don't worry about me. You have no reason to worry."

"ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?" Draco bellowed. "You have almost died at least twelve times since we've arrived and I have no reason to worry!" Draco pulled on Hermione's arm, and then he actually tried to take the earrings out of her ears. She hit his hands away. "I won't be a part of this!" He managed to remove one earring. Before he could get the other, Harry pulled her to him and placed her behind his back.

"It's the only thing we have at the moment, Malfoy!" Harry decided. "Everyone, hide in the forest. Hermione, stay out here in the clearing. Malfoy, hide with the rest of us, go back to Dorchester, or go home to London, otherwise the only person who'll be fired today is you."

"Really, Potter?" Draco said seriously. He walked up to Harry, and said, "Well then, if I'm going to be fired, I might as well be fired for a reason." He pulled back his fist and he hit Harry Potter on the jaw. Harry stumbled. A few of the Aurors rushed forward and pulled out their wands. Hermione held Harry's arm before Harry could retaliate.

"Draco! How could you?" she shouted.

"How could you, Granger?" Draco said. "That's the real question, you stupid fool." He stormed off into the woods.

**Part III:**

Meanwhile, up on the cliffs, under the veil of magic, hidden from all those who had been searching for them, were Milo, Iver and Jennifer. For hours, the brothers had been trying to figure out what to do with the girl, and they couldn't come to an agreement. Iver wanted to leave Glendora, take Jennifer with him, so that they could try to have a normal life. He wanted to discover what it was like to have his mate by his side.

Milo knew that could never happen. He knew that Jennifer had to be held accountable for what she had done. He knew that he too had to come to terms with his part in her guilt. He also knew that Iver could never control the woman when she turned into a Valeriana, and that Jennifer, in turn, could never control Iver's vampirism. They could never be 'normal', nor did they have a right to be.

Iver was quickly becoming enraged at Milo's insistence that they turn Jennifer over to the Aurors or to the clans. Jennifer, in turn, didn't want to have anything to do with Iver. She didn't know him, she didn't love him, and she didn't care if he was her mate. She loved Milo. She always had. She had loved him since she was a teenager, and if she couldn't have a life with him, then she didn't see the reason to continue living.

The more the brothers argued, as they stood on the side of the cliff, the angrier Jennifer became. She could feel herself turning. She had learned to control her turning over the last few years, so she didn't have to turn to the beast, but if Iver continued to insist that she leave with him, and Milo continued to deny that he loved her, then she wouldn't be responsible for what happened next.

She sat at the edge of the cave to listen.

"Milo, I'm tired of this. I can't convince you, and you can't convince me. We're at an impasse. What do you say we do that will benefit us all?"

"NOTHING!" Milo shouted. He slipped to the ground, down the side of the stone opening of the cave. He was so tired. "Iver, for the last time, trust me, you don't know this woman. I do. I know she's your mate, but that doesn't mean you know her. She killed Cat! She's killed so many! She has to be made to pay for that."

"I know that, but she's not fully responsible. I'll take her somewhere where she'll never harm anyone, ever again. You should be made to pay for your sins, too," Iver said harshly.

"I know, and when the Aurors take her, I'll insist they take me too, because I should have stopped her and tried to find her when the first University student went missing. You'll be ruler when I go. It's what's right. You should be the prince," Milo insisted.

"I'm not talking about you being made to pay for your knowledge of Jennifer," Iver complained. "I'm talking about Hermione. I know what you did to her. How dare you! She's another man's mate, and you tried to take her without her consent!"

"I already told you about that, and I'm so sorry! I'm more sorry than words can say!" Milo responded. He stood up and pushed his brother out of frustration.

Iver rushed back to his brother and pushed him against the rock face. He held him against the stone. Jennifer peeked out the entryway to watch. "That's not what I meant!" Iver seethed. "You tried to form a bonding ritual with her, after you already forced one on them! You committed a blood offense, Milo! You bit her neck! You told me once that you had your vampirism totally under control. You made me feel weak because I couldn't control mine, yet you can't control yours! A blood offense is punishable with death by our people!"

Jennifer backed away, anger seeping out of every pore. Milo tried to mate with Hermione Granger, which meant one thing: Hermione Granger had to die.

"And what do you think Jennifer did to those girls and to Cat! Wasn't that worse than a blood offense?" Milo shouted. He shook his brother as hard as he could. "You're letting your feelings for your mate, which you've romanticized over the years, rule your head!"

"And you're letting your lust for Hermione Granger rule yours!" Iver spat back.

Milo's head sunk to his brother's shoulder. "I hope you never know the pain I feel." He looked up in his brother's eyes and said, "I won't say anymore. As your older brother, and the prince of the prime clan, I'm using my power to rule that Jennifer Cravens will be taken to the third clan, and she will be given to them, in exchange for Cat's death, and they can appoint her punishment."

"I'm the true prince," Iver said, pushing away from his brother.

"Really?" Milo said, suddenly with sarcasm. "Do you really want to finally claim that title? It's not been a friend to me; perhaps it'll treat you better. Fine, stake your claim, take the title, be the prince, be the saviour, but that means you put the clan and the village first. That means you have to give Jennifer to the Aurors or to the third clan. Iver, there's a wide world out there for you. You don't even know this girl. I don't even know her, and I thought I did. I thought at one time that I loved her, but I can't love someone who knowingly kills an innocent. She controls her change into the beast. She controls the kill. Think about that. Let her go. You can still find a girl and fall in love. I promise you that. It's not all about mates and magic. It's about what's in your heart. Hermione taught me that."

Iver looked as if his brother had struck him across the face, but he knew that he spoke the truth. He fell to his knees, dropped his head, and said, "I don't know what to do."

The men heard a terrible screeching noise from within the cave. The sound was a cross between a high-pitched scream of a woman, and a screech of a bird. Milo pushed Iver completely to the ground, stepped over him, and pulled out his wand just as the beast flew from the cave, dove down the side of the cliff, and hovered over the forest. Then it went into the trees, and out of sight.

"NO!" Milo shouted. He turned into a bird, followed by his brother. They followed the beast until in landed in the forest. Both turned back to men and began to run, following the Valeriana as it was now on foot, running before them. Suddenly, someone barreled into Iver, knocking him over. It was Draco.

Milo stopped, turned, and shouted a curse toward Draco that narrowly missed him.

"What the hell, Malfoy!" Iver said from underneath him.

Milo rushed to them, knocked Draco off his brother and said, "I almost hexed your head off, Malfoy. We don't have time for this. Jennifer has turned, and she's getting away."

"Yes, and I think she's after Hermione!" Draco shouted. "Come on, I'll explain as we run!"

**Part IV:**

Hermione wasn't afraid. Harry was nearby, as were at least a dozen other Aurors. She was upset, however, because she knew that she had disappointed Draco. She had hurt him, and she only hoped he could forgive her. She sat by the stream, and zipped her jacket. It was getting colder as the afternoon sun began to slip from the sky. She decided she couldn't do this without Draco. She reached up to her right ear, removed the last earring, and then said, "Harry, can you hear me? Harry? I don't want to do this without Draco. Harry?"

She heard it before she saw it. She looked up, and then as if in slow motion, she saw the wingspan, and then a dark shadow fell over her, and the screeching was so loud that she had to cover her ears. Then she screamed.

She pulled out her wand, and stood in total shock. The beast in front of her was a truly terrifying sight. She almost cowered in fear, but she held firm. The entire forest drew quiet, and the only sound she heard was her own breathing, and the hissing sound of the half-bird, half-woman creature in front of her.

Milo ran from the forest, Iver behind him, Draco behind them both. Harry also appeared from behind Hermione, toward the back of the forest. The Valeriana circled Hermione, its wings out, standing between her and the men. Behind Hermione was the stream. She took a step backwards, with nowhere to go.

"Jennifer," Milo said. "Please, turn back for me, and let us talk for a moment."

The beast turned around to acknowledge Milo, but no one could tell if it could hear him, or comprehend what he had to say. He held up his hands and said, "My wand is put away. I won't hurt you. I couldn't hurt you. I won't give you up, I promise. You and I can go away together, if you want, just don't hurt her."

Before their eyes, the beast turned back into the girl. She had a wild look in her eyes. "You love her!" she accused, pointing toward Hermione. "You want to give me to the authorities, or to the third clan! You want Hermione Granger for yourself! You don't love me, you love her!"

"No, I don't," Milo said. "I don't think I can love anyone."

"Then you don't love me!" she screamed.

"But we were friends once, remember?" Milo asked.

"I don't want to be your friend! I love you! I killed all those girls to be with you!" she cried. "You do love her, don't you? I heard your brother say that you performed the mating ritual on her!"

"I was confused, just like you," Milo said.

"Then kill her for me, to prove to me that you want to be with me," Jennifer said.

"I can't do that," Milo said. "I won't do that."

"Then you don't really want to be with me!" she declared, crying hard. She hung her head in her hands and said, "No one has ever really loved me! You and Violet are the only ones who were ever nice to me. I thought you loved me. If you don't love me, I don't know what I'll do. I should just kill you, instead."

The girl's tears stopped almost as soon as they started, and she pointed her wand at Milo. Iver jumped between them and said, "Wait, Jennifer. I'm the true prince of our people, did you know that?" He spoke evenly, and calmly.

"No," she said, looking confused. She looked from Milo to Iver. Draco walked around them, to try to get to Hermione.

"Yes, Milo's birth wasn't legitimate, which makes him the Lost Prince. I'm the True Prince. Did you ever hear the story of the Lost Prince?" Iver asked.

"Yes, my aunt Violet told it to me," she said. "But if Milo is the Lost Prince that means that, no…that means he will die."

"Do you care?" Iver asked. "You just threaten to kill him, so you're only fulfilling the prophecy of the Lost Prince. Let me see if I remember the story. The 'lost prince' from the 'lost Veela clan', overwhelmed by the pull of his birthright, becomes confused, mixing bloodlust with love and desire, and he tries to kill the only woman that he ever loves, who in the end, kills him instead. Isn't that about right? Don't make that story come true, Jennifer. Don't make Milo pick you over his birthright, and don't make me, as the real prince, take you from him, because I'll do that. I will. I have the power. You're meant to be with me, you know. You're my mate, and the whole reason you were cursed was that I told Milo my mate dream. If you force me to do it, I'll take you from him. Only the true prince can do that, you know, but if you promise me that you'll take good care of him, and you'll stop killing, I'll let you have him. What do you say, Jennifer?"

Iver was trying to reason with a mad woman, and everyone recognized that fact, except for Jennifer. She smiled. "I wouldn't really kill him."

"And you won't kill Hermione, right, because, she's Draco's mate, not Milo's mate," Iver declared.

"Okay, fine," she said. She looked at Milo and said, "Milo, is that what you want?"

He hated lying to the girl, but he smiled, held out his hand, and said, "Yes, Jennifer. That's what I want. Come to me, and I'll take you back up to the cave, and we'll be safe away from everyone."

Iver suddenly seemed to panic, and Draco thought he knew why. "No, don't take her there. Why don't you take her back to our castle, Milo?"

"No, we'll go to the cave," Milo decided. "It will all be over soon, Brother."

"Milo, I forbid you to leave here, and take her to the cave!" Iver said. He leaned forward and said, "What are you doing?"

"Let me take care of this my way," Milo told him. "It has to be this way. I have to be the one that takes care of this."

Draco finally reached Hermione's side. He started to pull on her hand, to pull her toward Harry. Jennifer sensed everyone's general confusion. "What's going on, Milo?" she asked.

"Nothing, let's go to the caves, Jennifer." He held out his hand again.

"NO!" Iver shouted. "Milo, if you force me, I'll claim her right now! I won't let you continue to sacrifice yourself! I'll claim her, as is my right, and I'll take her to the third clan, as you suggested."

Jennifer looked from Milo to Iver, with a mad look in her eyes, and she turned back to the beast so quickly that all they saw was dirt, debris, and leaves flying in the air. Then Jennifer, as the beast, pounced on Iver. Milo was pushed out of the way in the ensuing confusion. Draco rushed toward the pair, pushing Hermione out of the way before he reached them. From her place on the ground, Hermione pulled out her wand, and before Milo, Harry, Draco, or Iver could react, she pointed her wand, and shouted, "Avada Kedavra!"

**Part V:**

Hermione slammed her suitcase closed and then sat on the bed in the motel room. She couldn't believe it was finally over. Just like that. With two simple words, it was all over.

The folktale of the Lost Prince didn't come true, in the sense that the girl who loved the Lost Prince killed him. Instead, the girl from the outside killed the girl who loved the Lost Prince.

She fell back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. There was a large crack in the ceiling. She wondered if this was the same room that they were in before. Of course, they were in so many rooms at this motel, and they all looked alike, so it could be the same room. One of those rooms had a crack in the ceiling, too.

Draco walked out of the shower, finished drying his hair with a towel, and then threw it on the floor. He slipped on a pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt, then his shoes and socks. The whole time he dressed, Hermione stared up at that crack in the ceiling. He asked, "What are you looking at, Granger?"

She pointed up toward the ceiling.

"Hmmm, a crack. Interesting." He didn't really think it was all that interesting, but he also didn't think that she thought it was all that interesting. He climbed on the bed beside her and closed her computer.

She looked over at him and said, "Don't close that, I'm working right now."

"You don't look like you're working," he said. "You look like you're staring at a crack on the ceiling." Nonetheless, he opened her computer back up, and said, "But, there you go, Princess."

She propped herself on her side and said, "You've changed a lot. In the beginning you were all about slamming things closed on me, and now look, how gallant, you opened my computer for me."

"I'm all about chivalry, my dear," he said. He leaned toward her and kissed her forehead. She moved around on the bed so she was facing in the same direction.

"What should I feel right now?" she asked.

"I don't know what you mean," he said slowly. He propped up on his elbow and said, "What do you mean? You mean about me opening your computer?" He was being purposely obtuse. He knew what she meant.

"I killed a woman."

"She was hardly a woman," he replied. "She was a serial killer, who showed no remorse, who would have killed you in an instant, hell, she would have probably killed all of us, since she turned back into the beast, and so what, she's dead, good riddance."

"Seriously?" she asked. "I can't believe you're being that crass. She was a sad girl, who became a sad woman, who was a product of her circumstances, and she couldn't help that she was cursed when she was a baby."

"Please," Draco said. "Stop being such a bleeding heart, Princess. You can feel anyway you want to feel, just don't expect me to feel the same way." He fell on his back, covered his eyes with his arm, and said, "I'm hungry, tired, and a bit weary of making you angry, because you just killed a woman, so what do you want me to say?"

She glared at him and said, "Nothing! Say not another, single word to me if you value our relationship!" She scooted toward the edge of the bed and said, "I'll go to the pub and get us some food. Don't follow me!"

She pulled on her coat, opened the door, and walked outside, where she found Iver and Milo talking to Harry. She walked up to them. Harry placed his arm around her shoulders. "What happens now?" she asked.

"That's up to the Ministry," Harry said. "Milo and Iver are free to go back to their village for now. We'll station Aurors there, for the time being, and if the Ministry declares it, perhaps for always. If they decide to charge them with any crimes, we'll come back and get them, but I doubt that'll happen."

She looked at Iver, then toward Milo, who couldn't look her in the eye. "What will happen to Violet?"

"She's coming to live with us, in the village. We're opening our borders, to all the magical people of Dorchester. If they want to come, they can. We're also going to start sending our children to Hogwarts, and we're going to start to rule with a more egalitarian system, or a clan system, instead of having one prince rule everyone, and instead of having one clan be more important than the other clans."

"Really?" she asked. She looked at Milo as he began to walk away. "Who decided that?"

"I did," Iver said. "My first and last decree as the true prince." He looked at his brother as he walked away. "Milo needs some peace. We all do."

Draco stood in the doorway of their room, listening to the entire exchange. She ran past, smiled at him, and then she caught up with Milo. All three men, Harry, Iver and Draco watched as she said something to him. Milo nodded, and then held out his hand. She took his hand in hers, shook it, and then smiled at him. He looked at Iver, and motioned toward his brother with his hand. He walked away from Hermione and out of sight.

"He's not the prince any longer, but he's still my big brother, so I guess that's my cue to leave. Thank you, Mr. Potter." Iver shook Harry's hand. He turned to Draco and said, "Draco, I can't tell you how happy I am to have met you, and I'm sorry if we made your job harder. I'll remember everything you said to me. I'm going to try to be happy, and I want you to try to be happy, too." He patted Draco's arm.

He walked up to Hermione, smiled at her, and without any words, he hugged her. She hugged him back. "I'll write to you," she said.

"I'd like that." He ran off, after his brother. Draco rushed back into their room, grabbed his jacket, and dashed past Harry, to catch up with Hermione.

"I guess it wouldn't do me any good to ask you what you said to Milo, right?" he said. He took her hand and laced his fingers with hers.

"I don't intend to keep secrets from you. I told him that I forgave him. That's all I said. I told him that he deserved happiness, too, and so I said he needed to forgive himself for that to happen." She smiled at Draco, and then looked down at the sidewalk.

"You're pretty forgiving," Draco declared. "I wouldn't be so forgiving."

"Yes, well, you're not me," she said with a smile. She pulled on his arm when they approached the pub and she said, "What are you getting? Fish and chips?"

"I don't know, what are you getting? I might get whatever you want," he responded. He pulled open the door and when they walked in, he whispered in her ear, "Are you afraid to be in here?"

"Nah," she said slyly, "I'll always have you to protect me." She laughed. "Are you afraid to be in here with me?"

"Nah," he mocked, "Because if they all recognize you, and decide to go after you again, you can do that little freezing spell on them once more, and besides, I can run faster than you, so I'll get away. I'm sure you would sacrifice yourself for me, wouldn't you?"

She sighed and sat down in the booth. "Yes," she declared. "I'll always make sacrifices for you, Prince."

He sat beside her, and said, "And I'll always protect you, Princess."

She picked up the menu. He pulled it from her hands, and slammed it shut. He smiled. She frowned. He smirked. She raised one eyebrow. He leaned over and kissed her lips. She said, "Don't ever slam my menu shut again, Malfoy. That was rude."

"Thank you for always being around to point these things out to me, Princess," he said with a smile. He took her hand from the menu; He placed it to his mouth, kissed her knuckles, and then he leaned closer and kissed her cheek.

Then he opened his own menu, and smiled.

She opened hers, and smiled as well…and it was The End.

* * *

_Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed this story! _


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